Monday 24 November 2014

Th Kite, by John Newton

Once upon a time a paper kite 
mounted to a wondrous height,

Where, giddy with its elevation, 
it thus expressed self admiration:

“See how yon crowds of gazing people 
admire my flight above the steeple;

How they would wonder if they knew 
all that a kite like me could do!

Were I but free, I’d take a flight 
and pierce the clouds beyond their sight;

But, ah, like a poor prisoner bound,
 my string confines me to the ground.

I’d brave the eagle’s towering wing 
might I but fly without a string.”

It tugged and pulled, while thus it spoke, 
to snap the string.

At last it broke.

Deprived at once of all its stay, 
in vain it tried to soar away.

Unable its own weight to bear, 
it fluttered downward through the air.

Unable its own course to guide, 
the winds soon plunged it in the tide.

Ah, foolish kite, thou hadst no wing, 
how couldst thou fly without a string?


Oh, Lord, I see
 how much this kite resembles me!

Forgetful that by Thee I stand, 
impatient of Thy ruling hand;

How oft I’ve wished to break the lines 
Thy wisdom for my lot assigns.

How oft indulged a vain desire
 for something more, or something higher.

But for Thy grace and love divine ,
a fall thus dreadful had been mine!

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