Could I command with voice or pen
The tongues of Angels and of men,
A tinkling cymbal, sounding brass
My speech and preaching would surpass;
Vain were such eloquence to me
Without the grace of Charity.
Could I the martyr's flame endure,
Give all my goods to feed the poor;
Had I the faith from Alpine steep
To hurl the mountain to the deep,
What were such zeal, such power to me
Without the grace of Charity?
Could I behold with prescient eye
Things future as the things gone by;
Could all earthly knowledge scan,
And mete out heaven with a span,
Poor were the chief of gifts to me
Without the chiefest--Charity.
Charity suffers long, is kind,
Charity bears a humble mind,
Rejoices not when ills befall,
But glories in the weal of all;
She hopes, believes, and envies not,
Nor vaunts, nor murmurs o'er her lot.
The tongues of teachers shall be dumb,
Prophets discern not things to come,
Knowledge shall vanish out of thought,
And miracles no more be wrought,
But Charity shall never fail,
Her anchor is within the veil.
Montgomery, James, son of John Montgomery, a Moravian minister, was born at Irvine, Ayrshire, Nov. 4, 1771. In 1776 he removed with his parents to the Moravian Settlement at Gracehill, near Ballymena, county of Antrim. Two years after he was sent to the Fulneck Seminary, Yorkshire. He left Fulneck in 1787, and entered a retail shop at Mirfield, near Wakefield. Soon tiring of that he entered upon a similar situation at Wath, near Rotherham, only to find it quite as unsuitable to his taste as the former. A journey to London, with the hope of finding a publisher for his youthful poems ended in failure; and in 1792 he was glad to leave Wath for Shefield to join Mr. Gales, an auctioneer, bookseller, and printer of the Sheffield Register newspap… Go to person page >