Habits reside in the faculties as stable dispositions or "hard to
eradicate" qualities that dispose the faculties to act in a certain
way, depending on the type of habit. If the habit is acquired it
gives the faculty power to act with ease and facility; if it is
infused, it procures not readiness in supernatural activity, but the
very activity itself. Natural or acquired habits result from repeated
acts of some one kind; they give not the power to act, but the power
to act readily and with dexterity. Thus in the natural order, the
faculty without the habit is simple power to act, the faculty with
the habit is power to act with perfection. Since custom is parent to
habit, it is called second nature. Faculty is like first nature, and
habit the second. First and second nature Faculty plus habit gives power to act with perfection

Not every habit is a virtue, but only one that so improves and
perfects a rational faculty as to incline it towards good — good for
the faculty, for the will and for the whole man in terms of his
ultimate destiny.

There is a broad sense in which we can speak of the natural
dispositions of any of our powers as innate virtues, but this is a
loose rendering and leads to confusion. More properly the infused
virtues should be contrasted with the acquired habits, in which the
autonomous will of the individual plays the dominant role. My
consistent effort to concentrate on a given course of action,
repeating the process over a long period of time and in spite of
obstacles, gradually develops a tendency to perform the action
spontaneously and almost without reflection, yet to a degree of
perfection that someone else without the virtue cannot duplicate.

The infused virtues are independent of the process. They are directly
produced by God in the operative faculties of a man, and differ
mainly from the acquired because they do not imply the human effort
which determines the faculty to a particular kind of activity, namely
facility induced by repetition. God Himself pours in [infundere]
the infused virtues, not by compulsion or overriding the free will of
man, but without dependence on us, which Augustine says, "are
produced in us by God without our assistance." They are supernatural
gifts, freely conferred through the merits of Christ, and raise the
activity of those who possess them to the divine level in the same
way that sanctifying grace elevates their nature to a share in the
life of God. They are supernatural precisely because they transcend
the natural capacities of mind and will either to acquire or operate.

There are infused and natural virtues. Infused virtues are the gift of God.

Among the infused virtues, however, some are concerned directly with
God and operate in a field in which the unaided reason cannot work;
they are called theological. Others have as their object not God
Himself, the final end of all things, but human activities that are
penultimate and subordinate to the final end; they are called moral
and, because four of them [prudence, fortitude, temperance, and
justice] are primary, said to be cardinal [<cardo, hinge>] in human cardinal or hinge virtues
conduct.

Aquinas argued of the necessity for theological virtues from a simple
analysis of man's elevation to the supernatural order. Our final
happiness may be considered in two ways. One is commensurate with our
human nature, and therefore a happiness obtainable by the use of our
native powers of mind and will. The other is immeasurably higher,
surpassing nature, and secured only from God by the merciful
communication of His own divinity. To make it possible to attain this
higher destiny in the beatific vision, we must have new principles of
activity, which are called theological virtues because their object
is God and not, as in moral virtues, merely things that lead to God;
because they are infused in the mind and will by God alone, as
opposed to the habits acquired by personal exercise; and because they
would never be known to us, except through divine revelation.

Ultimate supernatural happiness is obtained by following the cardinal, (justice, temperance, prudence, fortitude) and theological virtues (faith, hope, charity). Note that both are infused, according to Aquinas (link with Pilgrim's Progress).

Reflecting on the data of Scripture and tradition, Thomas finds a
striking reasonableness in the kind of virtues that God infuses in
the soul. They direct us to supernatural happiness in the same way
that our natural inclinations lead to our connatural end, i.e. in two
ways. First we must have light for the mind, both of principles and
practical knowledge, and then rectitude for the will to have it tend
naturally to the good as defined for us by reason.

Virtues are reasonable. But we need a. enlightenment and b. the right will.

Both of these, however, fall short of the order of supernatural
happiness, where "the eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither has it
entered into the heart of man, what things God has prepared for those
who love Him." Consequently in both cases man had to receive
something additional to lead him to a supernatural end.

For his intellect he receives supernatural principles, held by means
of divine light, which are the articles of belief accepted on faith.
His will is directed to the same end in two ways: as an intentional
drive moving towards that destiny to attain it [which is hope], and
as a kind of spiritual union that somehow transforms the will into
the goal it is seeking [which is charity].

Theological virtues supply for the mind and will what neither faculty
has of itself, the salutary knowledge, desire and love of God and of
His will, without which there could be no supernatural order, which
means voluntary choice of suitable means to reach the heavenly goal
to which we are elevated. These virtues make us well adjusted to our
last end, which is God Himself; hence they are called theological,
because they not only go out to God — as all virtue worthy of the
name must do — but they also reach Him. To be well adjusted to our
destiny we must know and desire it; the desire demands that we are in
love with the object to which we are tending and are confident of
obtaining it. Faith makes us know the God to whom we are going, hope
makes us look forward to joining Him, and charity makes us love Him.

Without faith, hope and love we have neither the will nor the power to reach our destiny: supernatural happiness.

Unlike the virtues known to philosophy, faith, hope, and charity are
not applications of the golden mean between extremes. In Aristotle's
language, a moral virtue is a certain habit of the faculty of choice,
consisting of a mean [<mesotes>] suitable to our nature and fixed by
reason in the manner in which a prudent man would fix it. It is a
habit which consists in a mean between excess and defect. Courage
keeps the balance between cowardice and reckless daring; sincerity
between ironical deprecation and boastfulness; and modesty between
shamelessness and bashfulness.

But a theological virtue can be measured by what the virtue demands
or by what our capacity allows. There is a valid sense in which even
the theological virtues observe a kind of mean, or better, a center
of gravity to which they tend. As far as God is concerned, He can
never be believed in, trusted or loved too much. But from our point
of view, we should exercise these virtues according to the measure of
our condition. Christian faith goes midway between heretical
extremes, for instance between Pelagianism which dispenses with
divine grace and Jansenism that denies a free will; Christian hope
must choose a path among the numerous prospective means of salvation;
and Christian charity must find a balance in the myriad opportunities
for loving God.

Golden mean doesn't quite apply in the same way with theological as with moral virtues. But there is a kind of balance.