It matters not what be our lot
Upon this mundane sphere,
In spite of fears and burning tears
While we shall linger here,
We must depend on foe or friend
For many things we need
To give the soul that full control
Which makes it strong indeed.
For noble end, make him a friend
Who can reciprocate,
A kindly act, not to it tacked
The proof of reprobate.
God only knows whom we may choose
And safely trust as brother,
The seeming saint may have a taint
That proves him quite another.
In human dust we scarcely trust
The egotistic pious,
Who thinks that he from sin is free–
Not subject to its bias;
A holy man does all he can
For God and human kind;
He meekly lives, but counsel gives
In language pure, refined.
(Jared Barhite)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, God Poems, Soul Poems, Friendship Poems, Fear Poems, Sin Poems, Brothers Poems, Language PoemsBased on Keywords: reprobate, tacked, reciprocate, egotistic