Poetry Archives

    Of all the Christian virtues chief
    With modest charms, and mild relief,
Most apt to heal the wounds of pride, and spleen,
    To thee, humility; I bend;
    O let me feel, thou art my friend!
Rule thou my bosom, as its gentle queen!

    ’Tis thine benignly to repress
    All proud conceit, all vain excess;
To give the chasten’d mind its proper tone;
    To make it keep in sight
    The worth of others with delight,
And never look too fondly on its own.

    Teach me, with active zeal, to wake
    At nature’s sigh, for pity’s sake,
When pride in dreams of apathy will nod!
    Still guided by thy Christian breath,
    Keep me, thro’ scenes of life, and death,
To mortals kind, and dutiful to God.