Kite

Once on a time a paper kiteWas mounted to a wondrous height,Where, giddy with its elevation,It thus express'd self-admiration:

"See how yon crowds of gazing peopleAdmire my flight above the steeple;How would they wonder if they knewAll that a kite like me can do!

Were I but free, I'd take a flight,And pierce the clouds beyond their sight,But, ah! like a poor pris'ner bound,My string confines me near the ground;

I'd brave the eagle's towring wing,Might I but fly without a string."It tugg'd and pull'd, while thus it spoke,To break the string&md;at last it broke.

Depriv'd at once of all its stay,In vain it try'd to soar away;Unable its own weight to bear,It flutter'd downward through the air;

Unable is own course to guide,The winds soon plung'd it in the tide.Ah! foolish kite, thou hadst no wing,How could'st thou fly without a string!

My heart reply'd, "O Lord, I see How much this kite resembles me!Forgetful that by thee I stand,Impatient of thy ruling hand;

How oft I've wish'd to break the linesThy wisdom for my lot assigns?How oft indulg'd a vain desireFor something more, or something high'r?

And, but for grace and love divine,A fall thus dreadful had been mine."

- John Newton