WHAT TO SAY... III...

STUPIDITY ITS OWN REWARD

I was so blind to every need but mine
That I was sure he had no heart at all—
I was the one who sat in lofty state
To mock his ways, to jeer, to judge, opine.

At last he spoke. And then I felt so small:
My patience seemed so thin, and his so great—
How tender his reproof, his touch how fine!
His gentle chiding made me taste my gall,

Feel deep the heartless way I tend to prate
See clear where I had, thoughtless, crossed the line,
And as he did, at once I could recall
Our story whole: his care, my sorry state.

Let me too be so tender, show such grace,
That he may know we now meet face to face.
.