Normale Version: The Better Par
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Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of man,
How angrily thou spurn'st all simpler fare!
"Christ," some one says, "was human as we are;
No judge eyes us from Heaven, our sin to scan;

"We live no more, when we have done our span."--
"Well, then, for Christ," thou answerest, "who can care?
From sin, which Heaven records not, why forbear?
Live we like brutes our life without a plan!"

So answerest thou; but why not rather say:
"Hath man no second life?--_Pitch this one high!_
Sits there no judge in Heaven, our sin to see?--

"_More strictly, then, the inward judge obey!_
Was Christ a man like us? _Ah! let us try_
_If we then, too, can be such men as he!_"