Thus Wisdom speaks aloud, and yet
Pride hardly will resign;
Though to forgive, and to forget,
Is God-like and divine.

When injured, I can scarce tell how,
To pass the injury by;
My angry spirit will not bow, –
Nor let resentment die

The heaving billows swell within,
’Till all is tempest grown, –
Thus do I share another’s sin –
Thus make his fault my own.

But come, my proud rebellious heart,
One serious thought bestow;
Do I thus act the christian’s part?
Has Jesus acted so?

Just the reverse – his generous breast
Did kind compassion move;
When sinners cursed, the Savior blest,
And injuries paid with love.

Although by wicked hands he died, –
With the last breath he drew –
"Father forgive!" he sweetly cried,
Himself forgave them too.

Jesus, I hide my head in shame –
I blush and weep to see
That I, who bear thy sacred name,
No more conform to thee.

O, the sharp pangs he underwent,
To clear my guilty score;
And shall I trifling wrongs resent,
No – I’ll resent no more.

I’ll seize the offending brother’s hand,
And call him still my friend;
My angry passions I’ll disband,
And every quarrel end.

Why should we differ by the way?
Why should dissensions come?
We hope to live an endless day,
In one eternal home.

Malice and rage be vanished far, –
Revenge, adieu to you;
I’m a delinquent at the bar,
Where he stands guilty too.

I must have mercy or I die,
And sink in sad despair;
I must forgive affronts, or I
Can hope no mercy there.

While others their punctilious boast,
Lord, bend my stubborn will;
For he that condescends the most,
Remains the victor still.

Fain, would I imitate my Lord,
And bear each cross event;
Humility’s its own reward,
But pride has punishment.

Come Holy Spirit, heavenly dove,
Descend on balmy wings,
Come tune my passions all to love,
Come strike the peaceful strings.

Jesus my longing soul shall wait,
And at thy feet adore;
Till I shall reach that happy state,
Where discord is no more.

Author: Sarah Babbee

Signs of the Times
Volume 27, Number 11; June 1, 1859

Below are the songs that were made from the poem using AI. They are identified
by the genre of the music in paranthesis.