Charity, meekness and truth, zeal, sincerity and patience,
There be, who have made themselves foes, yea, by honest gain,
Foes, whose plaint must have its answer, before the bright portal is unbarred:
Pride, and selfishness, and sloth, apathy, wrath and falsehood,
Bind to their everlasting toil many that must weary in the fires.
Love hath a power and a longing to save the gathered world,
And rescue universal man from the hunting hell-hounds of his doings:
Yet few, here one and there one, scanty as the gleaning after harvest,
Are glad of the robes of praise which Mercy would fling around the naked;
But wrapping closer to their skin the poisoned tunic of their works,