Whose thin small voice, in accents soft and sweet,
May oft be heard to warn thy erring feet—
“Beware—avoid—beyond is Heaven’s high road,
Where knees are bent, and souls commune with God—
There, where the meek of heart, the pure and mild,
Walk hand in hand with Virtue’s dove-eyed child—
There, where the widow gives her liberal mite,
And points the orphan in the way aright—
There, where soft Feeling sheds the heart-wrung tear,
And bends in sorrow o’er the sinner’s bier—