Summum Bonum

HOW blest is he that can but love and do
And has no skill of speech nor trick of art
Wherewith to tell what faith approveth true
And show for fame the treasures of his heart.
When wisely weak upon the path of duty
Divine accord hath made his footing sure
With humble deeds he builds his life to beauty,
Strong to achieve and patient to endure.
But they that in the market-place we meet,
Each with his trumpet and his noisy faction,
Are leaky vessels, pouring on the street
The truth they know ere it hath known its action.
Yet which think ye, in His benign regard,
Or words or deeds shall merit the reward ?