Man, on the dubious waves of error toss’d,
His ship half founder’d, and his compass lost,
Sees, far as human optics may command,
A sleeping fog, and fancies it dry land;
Spreads all his canvas, every sinew plies;
Pants for it, aims at it, enters it, and dies!
Then farewell all self-satisfying schemes,
His well-built systems, philosophic dreams;
Deceitful views of future bliss, farewell!
He reads his sentence at the flames of hell.
From the poem Truth by William Cowper
1 comment:
For so long, the lighthouse has remained within view amidst the raging storms, foggy nights, and perilous waves. But the sea of error now casts its hand upon this once firm beacon of hope and refuge. The lights no longer give a glimmering hope when desperation sets in.
Man has been blinded by this sea error upon which his refuge now mistakenly rests. Shall he forever turn away the hand of another. The hand that causes no harm, no hidden manipulations, nor strife? Or must the hand of kindness and good intentions now be placed upon a plane of calculations and preconceived notions to either pass or fail? God forbid that man is made lower than the animals. For the animal species retain an element of what is right and necessary for the time in question. If the unrelenting wrath of God is required to summon the attention of the foolish heart of man, then it must come. May we heed His symbolic gestures before our time is past.
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