Two neighbors, living on a hill,
Had each--and side by side--a mill.
The one was Jones,--a thrifty wight--
Whose mill in every wind went right.
The storm and tempest vainly spent
Their rage upon it--round it went!
E'en when the summer breeze was light,
The whirling wings performed their flight;
And hence a village saying rose--
'As sure as Jones's mill, it goes.'

Not so with neighbor Smith's--close by;
Full half the time it would not ply:
Save only when the wind was west,
Still as a post it stood at rest.
By every tempest it was battered,
By every thundergust 'twas shattered;
Through many a rent the rain did filter;
And, fair or foul, 'twas out of kilter;
And thus the saying came at last--
'Smith's mill is made for folks that fast.'

Now, who can read this riddle right?
Two mills are standing on a height--
One whirling brisk, whate'er the weather,
The other, idle, weeks together!

Come, gentle reader, lend thine ear,
And thou the simple truth shalt hear;
And mark,--for here the moral lurks,--
Smith held to faith, but not to works;
While Jones believed in both, and so,
By faith and practice, made it go!

Smith prayed, and straight sent in his bill,
Expecting Heaven to tend his mill;
And grumbled sore, whene'er he found
That wheels ungreased would not go round.

Not so with Jones--for, though as prayerful,
To grease his wheels he e'er was careful,
And healed, with ready stitch, each rent
That ruthless time or tempest sent;
And thus, by works, his faith expressed,
Good neighbor Jones by Heaven was blessed.