Lord, who shall dwell in thine abode
Of holiness and love;
To whom hast thou the grace bestow'd,
To reach the heights above?

To him who has reserv'd his youth
From Mammon's baits and spells,
And takes a pleasure in the truth,
Which from his heart he tells.

Whose tongue's unpractis'd in deceit,
Whose thoughts all wrong disclaim,
Nor are with virulence replete
Against his neighbour's fame.

So meek he will not over-rate,
When he his worth computes;
But glories on the good to wait,
And further their pursuits.

Whose word of promise is his oath,
And never made in vain,
Whose honest deed is more than both,
Tho' he the loss sustain.

Who hoarded money has not lent,
Exacting by the loan;
Nor took a bribe with black intent
To cause the martyr's groan.

Who that performs, and this forbears,
Shall never act amiss,
Nor fall into the worldly snares,
But speed for endless bliss.