Show The Monk He him gladly of his robe well worn To grayness donned the Christmas cowl Fresh in its inky black with sombre scow scowl scowl J Slept to tu the Chapel in in the dusk of morn y To pray Then as he knelt a sudden scorn A pride le crept on him him in in the silver bowl Of baptism he saw his image roll Beautiful clad anew all freshly shone He feels the devil Hotly then he prays Oh Mary free me from this earthly pride 1 I Because I have a garment must it stride Y YI I In n arrogance Oh lead me back to thee I Tear me from out the smooth and selfish ways To the rough paths of sweet humility Harvard Advocate |