They sang of old in pride: “We’re God’s elect,” jejune.
You pray for grace on all the sins of wicked men;
You curse your own foul egotism, greed’s hungry ken.190
Beware lest God’s just jealousy break forth amain,
And smite you to the earth, ne’er more to rise again.
Those angels owned, in words: “To rule is Thine, O God.
Without Thy strong protection, safety’s soon downtrod.”
Such were their lip-words. But their hearts’ rebellious pride,
With foolish boasting, thought: “No harm can us betide.”
They never ceased to brood on vanities thus framed,