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And now I deem that works, as these may be,
Of studious leisure and of sacred theme,
Which, for dispensing good, through other hands
And other eyes must pass and other hearts;
And therefore seem to lift one to the seat
Of wisdom and authoritative speech
Above one's fellows, and to set apart,
Somewhat withdrawn; these things, I fear, must be
Full of their peril, lest they uplift the soul
And by uplifting thrust it down more low,
Upraised in our own sight, made low with God.

23

Much too must be the peril to the soul
Which by comtemplative and letter'd lore
Would enter courts of light; for if the light
Of knowledge should increase, and fann'd by pride
Sever from charity, light without love,
The greater condemnation will it be,
And life at best laborious idleness.
For minds that feed on sacred literature
Are wont to move too fast, and so outstrip
The moral and the strengthening of the soul,
When life doth not with knowledge keep one pace,
But duty lags behind, shorn by degrees
Of lowliness and grace. Moreover add,
The mind full bent and the intenser thought,
Which any object thus pursued requires,
However pure and holy be the theme,
Leaves less of vacant leisure to the heart
For the great work of life—unceasing prayer.
Therefore, e'en more than others, such must need
The prayers of all men; for ourselves we need,
And more than others do we need to pray;
Lest seeming wise we be with fools shut out,
Miss of the wisdom unto babes reveal'd,
And thinking to gain others lose ourselves.