 | The book of the dead |  |
209
[CV. If any good may come to me]
If any good may come to me
From the cruel thorns o'er which I tread,—
Soft touches of humility,
That bow to earth my chastened head;
From the cruel thorns o'er which I tread,—
Soft touches of humility,
That bow to earth my chastened head;
I shall not thank the evil things,
That served as Heaven's dumb instruments;
Nor give their many wholesome stings
The merit due to good intents.
That served as Heaven's dumb instruments;
Nor give their many wholesome stings
The merit due to good intents.
Out of the vileness of their hearts,
They hissed and stung: God's mercy stood
Between us, and allayed the smarts,
And from their evil wrought my good.
They hissed and stung: God's mercy stood
Between us, and allayed the smarts,
And from their evil wrought my good.
| The book of the dead | |