Classic Poem

Give while thou canst, it is a godlike thing,
Give what thou canst, thou shalt not find it loss,
Yea, sell and give, much gain such barteries bring,
Yea, all thou hast, and get fine gold for dross:
Still, see thou scatter wisely; for to fling
Good seeds on rocks, or sands, or thorny ground
Were not to copy Him, whose generous cross
Hath this poor world with rich salvation crown'd
And when thou look'st on woes and want around,
Knowing that God hath lent thee all thy wealth,
That better it is to give than to receive,
That riches cannot buy thee joy nor health —
Why hinder thy own welfare? thousands grieve
Whom, if thy pitying hand will but relieve,
It shall for thine own wear the robe of gladness weave.