Benevolence
by Mark Akenside (1721-1770)

Thron’d in the sun; s descending car,
What power unseen diffuseth far
      This tenderness of mind?
What Genius smiles on yonder flood?
What God, in whispers from the wood,
      Bids every thought be kind?

O Thou, whate’er thy awful name,
Whose wisdom our untoward frame
      With social love restrains;
Thou, who by fair affection’s ties
Giv’st us to double all our joys
      And half disarm our pains;

Let universal candour still,
Clear as yon heaven-reflecting rill,
      Preserve my open mind;
Nor this nor that man’s crooked ways
One sordid doubt within me raise
      To injure human kind.

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