Penance

Mortal! if e’er thy spirits faint, By grief or pain opprest, Seek not vain hope, or sour complaint, To cheer or ease thy breast:

But view thy bitterest pangs as sent A shadow of that doom, Which is the soul’s just punishment In its own guilt’s true home.

Be thine own judge; hate thy proud heart; And while the sad drops flow, E’en let thy will attend the smart, And sanctify thy woe.