"And though in act unwearied, secret still,
As in some solitude the summer rill
Refreshes, where it winds, the faded green,
And cheers the drooping flow'rs, unheard, unseen.
Such was thy charity; no sudden start
After long sleep, of passion in the heart,
But steadfast principle, and in its kind,
Of close relation to the eternal Mind
Traced easily to its true source above,
To Him whose work bespeaks His nature, love."