JUDGE not; the workings of his brain And of his heart thou canst not see; What looks to thy dim eyes a stain, In God's pure light may only be A scar, brought from some well-won field, Where thou wouldst only faint and yield. The look, the air, that frets thy sight May be a token that below The soul has closed in deadly fight With some infernal fiery foe, Whose glance would scorch thy smiling grace And cast thee shuddering on thy face! The fall thou darest to despise, -- May be the angel's slackened hand Has suffered it, that he may rise And take a firmer, surer stand; Or, trusting less to earthly things, May henceforth learn to use his wings. And judge none lost; but wait and see, With hopeful pity, not disdain; The depth of the abyss may be The measure of the height of pain And love and glory that may raise This soul to God in after days! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE DEATH OF MR. CRASHAW by ABRAHAM COWLEY THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE AT [OR AFTER] CORUNNA by CHARLES WOLFE IN AN ALBUM by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS A BERKSHIRE HOLIDAY by CLIFFORD BAX A THRESHER OF WHEAT TO THE WYNDES by JOACHIM DU BELLAY SONNET: 1 by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT PIONEERS OF SOUTH DAKOTA by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN BBC by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB A PLAIN ACCOUNT OF THE NATURE AND DESIGN OF TRUE RELIGION by JOHN BYROM |