When I complained that I had lost my hope Of life eternal with eternal God; When I refused to read my horoscope In the unchanging stars, or claim abode With powers and dominations--but, poor clod, Clung to the earth and grovelled in my tears, Because I soon must lie beneath the sod And close the little number of my years,-- Then I was told that pride had barred the way, And raised this foul rebellion! I, but yesterday, Was God's own son in His own likeness bred. And thrice strange pride! who thus am cast away And go forth lost and disinherited.