Be not the passioned faith that fails to stay
When driven back and beaten to the ground,
Then compensated with a weed bouquet
Or self lamenting gift of thorny crown.
Be not the selfish soul that slips and falls
While treading down the mossy path you've laid,
Avoiding faithful friends when last they called
And fearful of the truth you now evade.
Arise and brush self pity from your brow.
You are the child of all that God hath sown,
And all the gifts with which you are endowed,
Bequeathed from each and all that you have known.
So stay, yet humbled, in this wind so strong,
Respectful of the fact you could be wrong.