There are those whose better self lies slain, By their own hand, to trouble them no more, Who've sacrificed their virtue just to gain The fruits which sin doth seem to hold in store; Who, lo, these many years were dead to love And purity and all its inward joy, Who catch no glimpses of the light above, And cast aside their birthright as a toy. But thou, sweet child, can never be like these, Thy better self controls thy every move, And wouldst thou e'er thy baser spirit please, Thy better self would chide thee and reprove. It is too strong for you to disobey, Thank God for that, and try each day to show Yourself obedient to its benign sway, And live the Christ life here on earth below. |