Aceldama

XIX. These little common sins may lead my lust To more deceitful vices, to the deeds At whose sweet name the side of Jesus bleeds In sympathy new-nurtured by the trust Of man’s forgiveness that his passion breeds— These petty crimes ! God grant they grow intense in newer, worthier times ! XX. Yet—shall I make me subject to a pang So horrible ? O God, abase me still ! Break with Thy rod my unrepentant will, Lest Hell entrap me with an iron fang ! Grind me, most high Jehovah, in the mill That grinds so small ! Grind down to dust and powder Pride of Life—and all ! 2 1