A memorial volume of sacred poetry by the late Sir John Bowring. To which is prefixed, a memoir of the author, by Lady Bowring |
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Introspection.
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 | A memorial volume of sacred poetry |  |
Introspection.
How much the uncharitable leaven
Is mingled with our daily fare!
How little do we think of heaven
When earth absorbs us everywhere!
We see our neighbour's fault and sin,
But quite forget to look within.
Is mingled with our daily fare!
How little do we think of heaven
When earth absorbs us everywhere!
We see our neighbour's fault and sin,
But quite forget to look within.
25
We sit in judgment on another,
And with impatient zeal condemn
The slightest failing of a brother:
If they to us, and we to them,
Deny forgiveness,—have we not
The lessons of our Lord forgot?
And with impatient zeal condemn
The slightest failing of a brother:
If they to us, and we to them,
Deny forgiveness,—have we not
The lessons of our Lord forgot?
Would we who scan a neighbour's eye
To find a trifling mote alone,
Remember that we might descry
A blinding beam within our own,
It would a marvellous lesson be
To check and cure uncharity.
To find a trifling mote alone,
Remember that we might descry
A blinding beam within our own,
It would a marvellous lesson be
To check and cure uncharity.
| A memorial volume of sacred poetry | |