You know, dear, that this vicious world is ever prone to see,
Most glaring faults and blemishes, in evey purity;
And thus, my dear, a shade of black will much the darker show,
Should it chance to be embedded in the virgin white of snow.
The modest floweret of the wood that's born to blush unseen,
May all its simple defects hide with its own veil of green;
But woe betide the stately rose, the pride of the parterre,
Should but the canker-spot of life upon its leaves appear.
The rose's heart, for that is hid, may with the blight corrode;
Have faults, but ever hide them well, for that is a-la-mode;
Should you but say that you have sinned-that you are but a mortal-
The world, amazed, will scorning cry, 'She'll ne'er see heaven's portal!'
The brittle glass of character will have stains on it cast
By malice of the slanderous world, for simple faults, long past;
No matter how much tempted, or how pure your heart has been,
You're wicked, in the last degree, if scandal knows your sin.
Thank God! repentant sinners are not judged by those of earth,
Or they would never be redeemed by an immortal birth.
Ah! He, when the last trump shall sound, 'who doeth all things well,'
Will wipe our sorrowing tears away, and pains of anguish quell.
See the flaw in this bright diamond; were it but a thing of glass,
A much larger flaw, unnoticed, would before the world's eye pass;
Gaze in the clearest waters, rocks and blemishes you spy,
That in less clearer streamlets would be hidden from your eye.
Be not offended now, my dear, at counsel from a friend,
Who blessings on thy youthful head, would daily, hourly send.
Deep in your heart your secrets keep; to enemies be civil;
And oh, be careful, and avoid appearances of evil.