When thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth.
LET thy good deeds be free from earthly stain
Of selfish feeling, as the summer rain;
Let them be pure and glorious as the sun;
And more in number than the stars, that shun
The light of day; and let them, even like those,
Gleam thro' the night, when grief leaves no repose
For the unquiet heart; and let them shine,
Apart from earth — akin to things divine;
But most like stars in silence let them be,
To those around as bright a mystery;
Shrinking from open day, and common sight,
And only seen by their own native light.