Awake my St John Leave all meaner things To low ambition, and the pride of kings. Let us, since life can little more supply Than just to look about us and to die, Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man A mighty maze but not without a.
Awake my St John Leave all meaner things To low ambition, and the pride of kings. Let us, since life can little more supply Than just to look about us and to die, Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man A mighty maze but not without a.
Pride is still aiming at the best houses: Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell; aspiring to be angels men rebel.
In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies;
All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies.
Hell was built on spite, and Heaven on pride.
Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes,
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
From pride, from pride, our very reas'ning springs;
Account for moral, as for nat'ral things:
Why charge we Heav'n in those, in these acquit?
What the weak head with stronger bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
All nature is but art, unknown to thee All chance, direction, which thou canst not see All discord, harmony not understood All partial evil, universal good And spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.
Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
Oh, Madness, Pride, Impiety!
Blest with a Taste exact, yet unconfin'd;
A Knowledge both of Books and Humankind;
Gen'rous Converse; a Sound exempt from Pride;
And Love to Praise, with Reason on his Side?
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories