Pride and Humility

Mark, how the stately tree disdainful rears
His tow'ring head, and mingles with the clouds;
But by his fatal height, the more expos'd
To all the fury of the raging storm:
His honours fly, the sport of angry winds;
Till the loud blast with direful stroke descends:
Torn from his basis, low on earth he lies,
And the hills echo to the sounding fall.
So pride, with haughty port, defies in vain.
The force of rough adversity, which rends
With double violence the stubborn heart.

But, like a tender plant, humility
Bends low before the threat'ning blast unhurt,
Eludes its rage, and lives through all the storm.

Pride is the liv'ry of the prince of darkness,
Worn by his slaves, who glory in their shame;
A gaudy dress, but tarnish'd, rent and foul,
And loathsome to the holy eye of heav'n.

But sweet humility, a shining robe,
Bestow'd by heav'n upon its fav'rite sons:
The robe which God approves, and angels wear
Fair semblance of the glorious Prince of light,
Who stoop'd to dwell (divine humility!)
With sinful worms, and poverty, and scorn.

Pride is the source of discord, strife, and war.
And all the endless train of heavy woes,
Which wait on wretched man; the direful sting
Of envy, and the dreaded frowns of scorn,
And gloomy discontent, and black despair.
But sweet humility, the source of peace,
Of amity and love, content and joy;
Where she resides, a thousand blessings wait,
To gild our lives, and form a heav'n below.

Pride leads her wretched vot'ries to contempt,
To certain ruin, infamy, and death.

But sweet humility points out the way
To happiness, and life, and lasting honours.

Humility how glorious! how divine!
Thus cloath'd, and thus enrich'd, O may I shine,
Be mine this treasure, this celestial robe,
And let the sons of pride possess the globe.