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With motion free as mountain cloud
Such was his dawn : but O ! how grieve
DANGER OF PRAISE.
“ And he confessed, and denied not; but confessed, I am not the Christ."
When mortals praise thee, hide thine eyes,
Nor in thy Master's wrong
Yet more in heart than tongue.
None holier than the Desert Priest
Beneath the Law's dim sky,
We read, he might not vie.
No member, yet, of Christ the Son,
No gospel Prophet he ;
Of dread yet blest decree.
If he confessed, nor dared deny,
Woe to that Christian's heart, Who in man's praise would walk on high,
And steal his Saviour's part !
And ah ! to him what tenfold woe,
Who hides so well his sin,
Yet dies impure within !
Pray we our Lord, one pang to send
Of deep remorseful fear
Praise be our Penance here !
“ If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted ? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him."
What is this cloud upon thy brow ?
But turns no ear to mine.
Yes : welcome to the pure bright air,
For the sweet fragrance' sake
Beside thine hearth, thine home within,
O chain it while 'tis time.
Thy forehead yet awhile must bear
And penance true and stern,