Classic Poem

O Pride, thou dropsy of the mind,
Of self-delusion born;
Hateful to God, by all mankind
In others seen with scorn.

Shall sinning man, O Lord, presume
To glory in thy sight?
Himself on his own virtues plume?
And claim thy heav'n by right?

I boast of none, in none I'll trust,
For mercy, Lord, I sue.
Ah! were my judge severely just,
Perdition is my due.

Shall mortal man, so blind and weak,
On his own pow'rs depend?
In thee I hope, thy blessing seek,
O guide me and defend.

Shall man his brother man despise,
Vain of excelling worth?
And view askance, with haughty eyes,
His fellow worm of earth?

Who made my birth, or station, high?
Another's mean and low?
Who made that poor man's cup so dry,
But mine to overflow?

My pride shall nobler talents swell?
Who made yon ideots small?
Who gave me talents to excell?
Who but the God of all?

O come, meek-ey'd Humility,
Come, dwell within my breast.
Thus, Jesus, I would learn of thee,
And feel thy promis'd rest.