And this their proudest lordship, Love's service to fulfil:
Chief Stewards and High Almoners of the goods Heaven bestows—
'Tis theirs to see that Charity in Wisdom's channels flows.
For e'en that stream, ill-guided, can poison goodly ground—
For health, sow fever broadcast, for blessing, blight, around:
'Tis not enough its waters to loose with lib'ral mind;
If Reason lends not eyes to Love, Love strays—for he is blind.
This she has known, our Angela, for whom men ask, e'en now,
"Fit tribute of our gratitude where shall we pay, and how?"
If blessings clothed in substance, prayers made palpable, could be,