Oh charity! oh love! how much we need
Thy softening power. Ye, whose hearts are bowed
Before a great Creator; ye, whose thoughts
Should be all purity—cannot ye feel
The power given you to soothe and calm
The troubled souls of weary-hearted men,
Who wrestle, like the Titan, ’gainst the power
Of the Omnipotent! Hurling ever back
Against the thunderer’s bolts, an avalanche,
Cleft from the cloud-topped hills of human pride,