Thought after thought pour’d in, a tempting train:  —
“Suppose it done,—­who is it could complain? 
How could the poor? for they such trifles share,
As add no comfort, as suppress no care;
But many a pittance makes a worthy heap, —
What says the law? that silence puts to sleep:  —
Nought then forbids, the danger could we shun,
And sure the business may be safely done. 
   “But am I earnest?—­earnest?  No.—­I say,
If such my mind, that I could plan a way;
Let me reflect;—­I’ve not allow’d me time
To purse the pieces, and if dropp’d they’d chime:” 
Fertile is evil in the soul of man. —
He paused,—­said Jachin, “They may drop on bran. 
Why then ’tis safe and (all consider’d) just,
The poor receive it,—­’tis no breach of trust: 
The old and widows may their trifles miss,
There must be evil in a good like this: 
But I’ll be kind—­the sick I’ll visit twice,
When now but once, and freely give advice. 
Yet let me think again:”—­Again he tried,
For stronger reasons on his passion’s side,
And quickly these were found, yet slowly he complied. 
   The morning came:  the common service done,
Shut every door,—­the solemn rite begun, —
And, as the priest the sacred sayings read,
The clerk went forward, trembling as he tread: 
O’er the tall pew he held the box, and heard
The offer’d piece, rejoicing as he fear’d: 
Just by the pillar, as he cautious tripp’d,
And turn’d the aisle, he then a portion slipp’d
From the full store, and to the pocket sent,
But held a moment—­and then down it went. 
   The priest read on, on walk’d the man afraid,
Till a gold offering in the plate was laid: 
Trembling he took it, for a moment stopp’d,
Then down it fell, and sounded as it dropp’d;
Amazed he started, for th’ affrighted man,
Lost and bewilder’d, thought not of the bran. 
But all were silent, all on things intent
Of high concern, none ear to money lent;
So on he walk’d, more cautious than before,
And gain’d the purposed sum and one piece more. 
   “Practice makes perfect:”  when the month came round,
He dropp’d the cash, nor listen’d for a sound: 
But yet, when last of all th’ assembled flock
He ate and drank,—­it gave th’ electric shock: 
Oft was he forced his reasons to repeat,
Ere he could kneel in quiet at his seat;
But custom soothed him—­ere a single year
All this was done without restraint or fear: 
Cool and collected, easy and composed,
He was correct till all the service closed;
Then to his home, without a groan or sigh,
Gravely he went, and laid his treasure by. 
Want will complain:  some widows had express’d
A doubt if they were favour’d like the rest;
The rest described with like regret their dole,
And thus from parts they reason’d to the whole: 
When all agreed some evil must be done,
Or rich men’s hearts grew harder than a stone.