 | Rhymes with reason and without |  |
114
AN OLD PARABLE MODERNIZED.
The Pharisee stands, with outspread hands,
And eyes turned up in prayer,
In his cushioned pew, broadly in view,
That people may see him there;
And good people praise his devotional air,
And his condescension their praise to share.
And eyes turned up in prayer,
In his cushioned pew, broadly in view,
That people may see him there;
And good people praise his devotional air,
And his condescension their praise to share.
But the humble one feels his dark sins roll
Like a wave o'er his bosom's peace;
Ill, ill at rest, he smites his breast,
And prays that his strife may cease;
“God be merciful—extend thine arm,
Save me, a sinner, from impending harm!”
Like a wave o'er his bosom's peace;
Ill, ill at rest, he smites his breast,
And prays that his strife may cease;
“God be merciful—extend thine arm,
Save me, a sinner, from impending harm!”
And the God that reads the heart that pleads
Shall bless to that humble soul
A measure of peace that shall never cease
O'er life its blest control;
Nor shall pride or self-trust obtain the goal,
Alone to be gained by the humble soul.
Shall bless to that humble soul
A measure of peace that shall never cease
O'er life its blest control;
Nor shall pride or self-trust obtain the goal,
Alone to be gained by the humble soul.
| Rhymes with reason and without | |