THE BETTER PART

Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of man,

How angrily thou spurn'st all simpler fare!

“Christ,” some one says, “was human as we are;

No judge eyes us from Heaven, our sin to scan;

“We live no more, when we have done our span.” —

“Well, then, for Christ,” thou answerest, “who can care?

From sin, which Heaven records not, why forbear?

Live we like brutes our life without a plan!”

So answerest thou; but why not rather say:

“Hath man no second life?— Pitch this one high!

Sits there no judge in Heaven, our sin to see?—

“More strictly, then, the inward judge obey!

Was Christ a man like us? Ah! let us try

If we then, too, can be such men as he!”