There be deeper things than these, lying in the twilight of truth; But few can discern them aright, from surrounding dimness of error. For perchance, if thou knewest the whole, and largely with comprehensive mind Couldst read the history of character, the chequered story of a life, And into the great account, which summeth a mortal's destiny, Wert to add the forces from without, dragging him this way and that, And the secret qualities within, grafted on the soul from the womb, And the might of other men's example, among whom his lot is cast, And the influence of want or wealth, of kindness or harsh ill-usage, Of ignorance he cannot help, and knowledge found for him by others, And first impressions, hard to be effaced, and leadings to right or to wrong, And inheritance of likeness from a father, and natural human frailty, And the habit of health or disease, and prejudices poured into his mind, And the myriad little matters none but Omniscience can know, And accidents that steer the thoughts, where none but Ubiquity can trace them;-- If thou couldst compass all these, and the consequents flowing from them, And the scope to which they tend, and the necessary fitness of all things, Then shouldst thou see as He seeth, who judgeth all men equal,-- Equal, touching innocence and guilt; and different alone in this, That one acknowledged his evil, and looketh to his God for mercy; Another boasteth of his good, and calleth on his God for justice; So He, that sendeth none away, is largely munificent to prayer, But, in the heart of presumption, sheatheth the sword of vengeance. [Illustration] OF HATRED AND ANGER. Blunted unto goodness is the heart which anger never stirreth, But that which hatred swelleth, is keen to carve out evil. Anger is a noble infirmity, the generous failing of the just, The one degree that riseth above zeal, asserting the prerogatives of virtue: But hatred is a slow continuing crime, a fire in the bad man's breast, A dull and hungry flame, for ever craving insatiate. Hatred would harm another; anger would indulge itself: Hatred is a simmering poison; anger, the opening of a valve: Hatred destroyeth as the upas-tree; anger smiteth as a staff: Hatred is the atmosphere of hell; but anger is known in heaven. Is there not a righteous wrath, an anger just and holy, When goodness is sitting in the dust, and wickedness enthroned on Babel? Doth pity condemn guilt?--is justice not a feeling but a law Appealing to the line and to the plummet, incognizant of moral sense? Thou that condemnest anger, small is thy sympathy with angels, Thou that hast accounted it for sin, cold is thy communion with heaven.