previous next

[313] My lack would borrow thy excess,
     My feeble faith the strength of thine;
I need thy soul's white saintliness
     To hide the stains of mine.

The grace and favor else denied
     May well be granted for thy sake. “
So, tempted, doubting, sorely tried,
     A younger pilgrim spake.

“Thy prayer, my son, transcends my gift;
     No power is mine,” the sage replied,
“The burden of a soul to lift
     Or stain of sin to hide.

Howe'er the outward life may seem,
     For pardoning grace we all must pray;
No man his brother can redeem
     Or a soul's ransom pay.

Not always age is growth of good;
     Its years have losses with their gain;
Against some evil youth withstood
     Weak hands may strive in vain.

With deeper voice than any speech
     Of mortal lips from man to man,
What earth's unwisdom may not teach
     The Spirit only can.

Make thou that holy guide thine own,
     And following where it leads the way,
The known shall lapse in the unknown
     As twilight into day.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.

An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.

hide Places (automatically extracted)

View a map of the most frequently mentioned places in this document.

Download Pleiades ancient places geospacial dataset for this text.

hide Display Preferences
Greek Display:
Arabic Display:
View by Default:
Browse Bar: