In ancient days there liv'd a priest,
Inshrin'd within whose pious breast
Fair Virtue shone; his open look
Gave sanction to each word he spoke.
Fix'd to no home, in mean array,
From place to place he took his way,
Instructing as he went along,
And dealing blessings to the throng.
The truth he labour'd to express,
In language plain as was his dress;
Yet all with secret rapture hung
On every accent of his tongue:
A silent eloquence there ran
Through all the actions of the man;
They mark'd his soul's unblemish'd frame,
His precept and his life the same.