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!"