<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421651" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Vanity Of The Creature Sanctified</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Honey though the bee prepares,<br>An envenomed sting he wears;<br>Piercing thorns a guard compose<br>Round the fragrant blooming rose. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where we think to find a sweet,<br>Oft a painful sting we meet:<br>When the rose invites our eye,<br>We forget the thorn is nigh. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why are thus our hopes beguiled?<br>Why are all our pleasures spoiled?<br>Why do agony and woe<br>From our choicest comforts grow? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sin has been the cause of all!<br>'Twas not thus before the fall:<br>What but pain, and thorn, and sting,<br>From the root of sin can spring? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now with every good we find<br>Vanity and grief entwined;<br>What we feel, or what we fear,<br>All our joys embitter here. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, through the Redeemer's love,<br>These afflictions blessings prove;<br>He the wounding stings and thorns,<br>Into healing med'cines turns. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">From the earth our hearts they wean,<br>Teach us on his arm to lean;<br>Urge us to a throne of grace,<br>Make us seek a resting place. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the mansions of our King<br>Sweets abound without a sting;<br>Thornless there the roses blow,<br>And the joys unmingled flow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Newton">John Newton</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421651" data-title="Vanity Of The Creature Sanctified de John Newton" data-description="Honey though the bee prepares, An envenomed sting he wears; Piercing thorns a guard compose Round the fragrant blooming rose. Where we think to find a sweet, Oft a painful sting we meet: When the rose invites our eye, We forget the thorn is nigh..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black