Or who could suffer being here below?
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food,
And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
O, blindness to the future! kindly given,
That each may fill the circle marked by Heaven.
Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
Wait the great teacher death, and God adore!
What future bliss he gives not thee to know,