To a Wealthy Man — Dorothea Primrose Campbell

Go, man of wealth! and seek the shadeWhere Sickness' pining form is laid;Where honest worth neglected lies,And wasted sorrow droops and dies.

Go, raise the mourner's drooping head,And round his dwelling comfort shed;Go, hush pale mis'ry's doleful cry,Assuage the tear, and hush the sigh.

Go, bring yon weary wand'rer here,Where peace and plenty crown the year;Go, bid his woes and wand'rings cease,And close his aged eyes in peace.

Go, soothe the pang yon widow feels,That o'er her babe despairing kneels;Say, that her children thou'lt protect,Nor e'en the mother's woes neglect.

Go, tell yon trembling orphan pale,At ev'ry door that sobs her tale,Thy wealth shall yield a parent's home,Nor future wants compel to roam.

Go, search the prison's noisome cell,Where guilt, disease, and anguish dwell;Where suff'ring innocence complains,And man, thy fellow, walks in chains!

There set the pining debtor free,And blessings shall be pour'd on thee;Relieve each want, console each care,And blunt the sorrows of despair.

So may thy bosom ne'er repine,So may sweet peace be ever thine;Unnumber'd joys thy life attend,Virtue thy guide, and God thy friend!

So, long and happy may'st thou live,With all the bliss that life can give;And die a death devoid of fear,And leave a name to thousands dear!