Sad heart, grieved in befogged belief
That mortal thought has any power at all
To value you, belittle, or approve
Your selfhood, your endeavor, or true worth,
Come, now, recall the gentle, wise words: Nothing
Outside a man can enter and defile;
But that which is within—see thou to that!
Probe deep and deeper for that hidden sin
Which barbs the arrows shot from error's bow;
Probe deep for pride—that cost vain Lucifer
His heavenly home, peace, place, under God's dome—
That cloaks itself in many a mask and guise
(Self-pity, justification, apathy).
Then, when the probe is pure unselfed desire
To reach the truth of selfhood as God's son—
Not you or I alone but everyone—
Neither belittlement by mortal thought
Will sadden us, nor adulation stir
A pleased response to hollow blandishments.
Pride gone, we shall discern in some degree
The weightlessness of prestige, personal worth,
Of race, position, class, mere intellect,
And echo in a new humility,
The prince of this world hath no part in me!
