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Wisely Thou givest—all around
Thine equal rays are resting found,
Yet varying so on various ground
   They pierce and strike,
That not two roseate cups are crowned
   With drew alike:

E'en so, in silence, likest Thee,
Steals on soft-handed Charity,
Tempering her gifts, that seem so free,
   By time and place,
Till not a woe the bleak world see,
   But finds her grace:

Eyes to the blind, and to the lame
Feet, and to sinners wholesome blame,
To starving bodies food and flame,
   By turns she brings;
To humbled souls, that sink for shame,
   Lends heaven-ward wings:

Leads them the way our Saviour went,
And shows Love's treasure yet unspent;
As when th' unclouded heavens were rent.
   Opening His road,
Nor yet His Holy Spirit sent
   To our abode.

Ten days th' eternal doors displayed
Were wondering (so th' Almighty bade)
Whom Love enthroned would send, in aid
   Of souls that mourn,
Left orphans in Earth's dreary shade
   As noon as born.

Open they stand, that prayers in throngs
May rise on high, and holy songs,
Such incense as of right belongs
   To the true shrine,
Where stands the Healer of all wrongs
   In light divine;

The golden censer in His hand,
He offers hearts from every land,
Tied to His own by gentlest band
   Of silent Love: