human
We--all and each--have faculties and powers Here undeveloped, lying deep within, Crush'd by the weight of circumstance and sin; Latent, as germs conceal their hidden flowers, Till some new clime, with genial suns and showers Give them the force consummate life to win: Even so we, poor prisoners of Time, Victims of others' evil and our own, Cannot expand in this tempestuous clime, But full of excellences in us sown, Must wait that better life, and there, full blown, In spiritual perfectness sublime The prizes of our nature we shall gain, Which now we struggle for in vain--in vain!
gpt
Who does not feel within him he could be Anything, everything, of great and good? That, give him but the chance, he could and would Soar on the wings of triumph strong and free? And think not this is vanity, for he, If one of Glory's heirs, is of the band 'I said that ye are gods!'--on this we stand Through the eternal ages infinite, Growing like Christ in hope and love and light As grafted into Him: there shall we see, And know as we are known; no hindrance then Shall bind our wings, or shut our eyes or ears; Led upward, onward, through ten million years, We shall expand in spirit,--but still be Men.
human
Each hath his specialty; we see in some Music or painting, eloquence or skill, With, or without, an effort of the will, As by spontaneous inspiration come Ev'n in this mingled crowd of good and ill, To make us hail a Wonder:--but Elsewhere Without or let or hindrance we shall use Forces neglected here, but nurtured there; Till all the powers of every classic Muse, Ninefold, may dwell in each--as each may choose: Since Heaven for creatures must have creature gifts, Not only love, religion, gratitude, But also light, and every force that lifts Man's spirit to the heights of Great and Good.