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" Christ did not please Himself." — Romans xv. 3.
Oh I could go through all life's troubles singing,
Turning earth's night to day, If self were not so fast around me, clinging
To all I do or say.
My very thoughts are selfish, always building
Mean castles in the air; I use my love of others for a gilding
To make myself look fair.
I fancy all the world engrossed with judging
My merit or my blame; Its warmest praise seems an ungracious grudging
Of praise which I might claim.
In youth or age, by city, wood, or mountain,
Self is forgotten never; Where'er we tread, it gushes like a fountain,
And its waters flow for ever.
Alas ! no speed in life can snatch us wholly
Out of self's hateful sight; And it keeps step, whene'er we travel slowly,
And sleeps with us at night.