. <br /> <br /> <br />ONCE, as I brooded o'er my guilty state, <br /> A fever seized me, duties to devise, <br /> To buy me interest in my Saviour's eyes; <br />Not that His love I would extenuate, <br />But scourge and penance, masterful self-hate, <br /> Or gift of cost, served by an artifice <br /> To quell my restless thoughts and envious sighs <br />And doubts, which fain heaven's peace would antedate. <br />Thus as I tossed, He said:—"E'en holiest deeds <br />Shroud not the soul from God, nor soothe its needs; <br />Deny thee thine own fears, and wait the end!" <br />Stern lesson! Let me con it day by day, <br />And learn to kneel before the Omniscient Ray, <br />Nor shrink, when Truth's avenging shafts descend! <br /> <br /> <br />.<br /><br />John Henry Newman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gift-of-perseverance/
