60. Sensitiveness
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{113}
TIME was, I shrank from what was right |
| From fear of what was wrong; |
| I would not brave the sacred fight, |
| Because the foe was strong. |
But now I cast that finer sense |
| And sorer shame aside; |
| Such dread of sin was indolence, |
| Such aim at Heaven was pride. |
So, when my Saviour calls, I rise, |
| And calmly do my best; |
| Leaving to Him, with silent eyes |
| Of hope and fear, the rest. {114} |
I step, I mount where He has led; |
| Men count my haltings o'er;— |
| I know them; yet, though self I dread, |
| I love His precept more. |
Lazaret, Malta.
January 15, 1833. |