Meek virtue was not what they sought to gain the most...

Meek virtue was not what they sought to gain the most; Of him they learned to ferret out new sins, and boast. Hair-splitting casuists, point by point they sin dissect; They grow too wise; ’twixt rose and garlic links detect. Of such avail's the subtle cunning of these men, That honest teachers oft are made to swerve by them. The Christian folk in him their confidence thus place. Gregarious, like sheep, ’s the mob of every race.

A gen’ral favourite was he; all loved him well; 50 Christ's vicar called they him; as who the truth could tell. This cursed Antichrist, so full of fraud and wile! Grant help, O God! ’Tis Thou alone canst curb such guile. The devil's snares are spread abroad in tempting guise, Their baits are various; we, like birds, shut fast our eyes. If saved from one, another tempts; we thither stray; Like hawks and eagles, heinous sins make us their prey. Thou shieldest us, O gracious God!

But ever still, With froward hearts and minds we counteract Thy will. This world's a granary, of which we steal the corn. The wheat is there all garnered; we it spoil in scorn. 55 We take no heed of future life in what we do; Sly mice still help us to consume the fruits that grow, Those mice a road have found to reach our winter store. Through their inroads our victual spoils; it is no more. First stop mouse-holes; make safe thy granary, O man! Thy wheat then garner safely; winter's at our van.

Give ear to what he's said, the Lord's own Chief of Chiefs: 1 "No perfect worship's needed, save in war's reliefs." 2 If mice there be not to destroy our garnered meeds, Where is our wheat, the fruit of fifty summers’ deeds? 60 To shreds all nibbled lie the products of our days; No stores accumulate for provend on our ways. How many sparks of fire from flint and steel have flown! How many hearts, like tinder, make those sparks their own!

But in the dark some thief his finger presses there; And ev’ry train puts out that has been lighted here. Extinguished if those sparks were not, a flame would rise; A burning light be kindled, flashing ’yond the skies. A thousand snares are laid to catch our tripping feet; But, Lord, if us Thou shield, harm never shall us meet. 65 If but Thy grace will guide us, lead us on our way, No thief can steal our peace of mind, our light of day.

Each night Thou settest free the soul from trap of flesh, To scan and learn the hidden records of Thy wish. 3 Each night the soul is like a bird from cage set free, To wander.