How blest is he, whose honest toil
	Provides for all his needs,
His infant children duly trains,
	His aged parents feeds.

Whose outlay, balanced ne'er beyond
	His income's bounds to spread;
A surplus saves for those who lack
	The power to earn their bread.

The orphans of his kindred first
	Demand his earnest care,
And next the blind, or deaf and dumb,
	Or maimed his bounty share.

In rend'ring alms of fruit and corn
	He chooseth portions good;
Small merit theirs, who meanly give
	Their own rejected food.

And When with dole-fund spent he hears
	The needy's piteous call,
Tho' void his purse, his heart is full,
	He speaks kind words to all.

Oh, surely they who thus through life
	Sweet mercy's path have trod,
A recompense hereafter reap
	Of blessings from our God.