My Soul
My souls will weep,
Run down with tears;
Because of your pride!
But a lowly seat is now set before you,
So try and humble yourself always in this life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis

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Related quotes
Humility And Pride
Two emotions deep down inside, are those of humility and pride,
They produce what men may see, in the life of both you and me.
A haughty spirit can sure reside, in a heart that’s filled with pride.
A humble spirit is in you and me, when you’re filled with humility.
You can lift yourself up with pride, but God’s Word is not denied,
And God’s Word is clear and loud, God will humble all the proud.
Men may believe that they are wise; but that is only in their eyes.
For all of pride, my dear friend, by The Lord shall be condemned.
Men who are humble and meek, by proud men considered weak,
By The Lord are never despised, but truly favored in God’s eyes.
The Lord will exalt humble men; for this is in His Word my friend,
They will be lifted up by The Lord, as by God they’re not ignored.
On the cross there was no pride, as Jesus Christ our Savior died.
Christ had displayed for us humility, as The Savior of all humanity.
The Eternal God, far from weak, was to all men humble and meek.
God’s example is for all to behold, and His Word will not grow old.
Friend pride can be a hindrance, to the life Christ has given to us,
Pride will never be used by God, but it shall be judged by His rod.
Allow Christ’s humble spirit within, then you shall be used by Him,
As only a meek and humble life, truly displays the power of Christ.
(Copyright ©05/2006)
This pride of mine
Is it my absurd pride,
Which countenanced you to take off and run?
Is it my rainbow pride,
Which made you flee to the searing sun?
I beg of you
Stop! Think twice
A little pride is better than nice.
That is a saying plausibly far from wise!
If your love could fall once more out of the sky
This pride of mine I throw out amply to the sea
I tell no lie and I speak no lies
This pride of mine, I’ll give to another for free
For years and years
I have chewed over on my pride
Crying out inside beclouded tears
Our love went down with a dingy backslide
But! But!
This pride of mine was too blind to see
Sometimes it draws out the beauty in me
Sometimes it sheds out the ugly in me
Like leaves falling off once a blossoming tree
This pride of mine
Needs to resign
This pride of mine
Isn’t sweeter than wine
But! But!
If your love could fall once more out of the sky
This pride of mine I throw out amply to the sea
I promise to be humble, humble and humble
For upon your type of love I may never stumble!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi

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Jesus Told a Joke
Jesus told a joke
To the lowly and humble folk
And they laughed.
So the Pope
Who didn't understand the joke
Banned laughter in Church.
The lowly and humble folk
Had killed themselves laughing
So the Church said
The Joker must die too.
Why must something beautiful
Be destroyed
By serious-minded clerics
Without a sense of humour?
Why must we bow down
To a corpse on a tree
Instead of singing and dancing?
Why are our loveliest songs
Inspired by sorrow?
And why do our priests and priestesses
Lord it over us
Clothed in dark garments of woven tears?
poem by John Thorkild Ellison

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When He Who Adores Thee
When he, who adores thee, has left but the name
Of his fault and his sorrows behind,
Oh! say wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame
Of a life that for thee was resign'd?
Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn,
Thy tears shall efface their decree;
For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them,
I have been but too faithful to thee.
With thee were the dreams of my earliest love;
Every thought of my reason was thine;
In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above,
Thy name shall be mingled with mine.
Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live
The days of thy glory to see;
But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give
Is the pride of thus dying for thee.
poem by Thomas Moore

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Hymn 127
Christ's invitation to sinners, or, Humility and pride.
Mt. 11:28-30.
"Come hither, all ye weary souls,
Ye heavy-laden sinners, come;
I'll give you rest from all your toils,
And raise you to my heav'nly home.
"They shall find rest that learn of me;
I'm of a meek and lowly mind;
But passion rages like the sea,
And pride is restless as the wind.
"Blest is the man whose shoulders take
My yoke, and bear it with delight;
My yoke is easy to his neck
My grace shall make the burden light."
Jesus, we come at thy command;
With faith, and hope, and humble zeal,
Resign our spirits to thy hand
To mold and guide us at thy will.
poem by Isaac Watts

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Weep No More
Mary, don't you weep no more
Mary, don't you weep no more
'Cuz, I got your letter today
Pack my bags and I'm on my way
So, don't you weep no more
Don't you weep no more
Dry your eyes
Don't you shed no tears
The sun is risin'
So, put away your fears
Cuz, I know I once done you wrong
I want to say I'm sorry
And I'm comin' back home
So, don't you weep no more
Don' t you weep no more
I hear your voice in the wind
And I feel your tears in the rain
Shadows of night are falling
Can't you hear me call your name
I'm comin' home
I'm comin' home
So, don't you weep
Don't you weep
Don't you weep
Don't you weep no more
song performed by by Bad Company

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Little Man
Dont you know I love you more than life itself,
Dont you know that youre my pride
And I would not have you walking through this world.
Without me by your side
Go to sleep my little man
Dont you weep my little man
Id like to keep you with me all your life,
But I know I cant do that
So I must try to teach you wrong from right,
To keep the vulture from your back
Go to sleep my little man
Dont you weep my little man
And when youre dreaming you can talk to angels,
So wipe the tears from your eyes
And if theres demons that try to steal you breath away.
You cant believe that, know my spirit will be standing by your side
You saved me, you gave me, the greatest gift of all
Believe me, believe, there aint no mountain thats too tall
I will gladly carry your cross for you,
To take your pain away
But what I cant carry is my love for you,
Beyond my dying day
So be strong my little man
When Im gone my little man
You got to be my little man
So dont you weep my little man
Go to sleep my little man
Dont you weep my little man
You got to be my little man
So dont you weep my little man
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My pride
It began when i was a little foetus
Striving for perfection even though
I'm not, the pride was sent
Down to me not by my parents
But my forefathers the royal
Barolong who fought for my
Survival but not my revelation
Of a pride so humble yet poised
This pride provides for me, speaks
For me and it obliviates those
Who underestimate it as it is
Possessed by me and me only
This pride is my pride and my
Pride is my culture
poem by Innocent Seilane

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Joy To The Followers of The Lord
Joy to the followers of the Lord!
Thus saith the sure the eternal word.
Not of earth the joy it brings,
Tempered in celestial springs:
'Tis the joy of pardoned sin,
When conscience cries, 'Tis well within;
'Tis the joy that fills the breast
When the passions sink to rest:
'Tis a joy that, seated deep,
Leaves not when we sigh and weep;
It spreads itself in virtuous deeds,
With sorrow sighs, in pity bleeds.
Stern and awful are its tones
When the patriot martyr groans,
And the throbbing pulse beats high
To rapture, mixed with agony.
A tenderer, softer form it wears,
Dissolved in love, dissolved in tears,
When humble souls a Saviour greet,
And sinners clasp the mercy-seat.
'Tis joy e'en here! a budding flower,
Struggling with snows and storm and shower,
And waits the moment to expand,
Transplanted to its native land.
poem by Anna Laetitia Barbauld

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It's Raining My Son
It's raining my son.... The autumn is wet,
Wet like the eyes of a poor beguiled love....
Go, close the window, and close the door,
Then come beside me, come, face me seated
In silence supreme.... It's raining my son.
Does it rain sometimes also in your soul?
Does your heart chill too? and do you shiver
Reflecting on the bright and bygone sun
Behind one of the closed doors of destiny?
But you weep my son.... In darkness, at once
Heavy tears outflow from your wet, wet eyes....
Weep, weep the tears of soon lost innocence;
Weep without knowing, my poor unwise son,
The poor prey of life; weep that you may grow.
poem by Vahan Tekeyan

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Pride!
All I have left is my pride.
But a shield, yet a buoy.
Keeps me afloat against vice,
Against your spite that annoy.
My pride; a protective pride,
Affords me dignity's joy-
When you want to stomp my might,
When you want to stop my force.
It is my pride that clears my sight.
Thus leave me to my proud course.
Lest you feel my wrath ever fierce.
My pride, the only dignity I know.
Only wall between trodden tears;
The defender of weak, helpless souls,
Those looking upon the rich with fear.
Pride; the bold titanium shield of sorts.
Blocking the piercing stares and jeers.
Unseen strength that can't be stopped.
Can't be broken; is my pride here.
poem by Real Wordz

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Song Of Yoomy
Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi:
The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea,
That rolls o'er his corse with a hush,
His warriors bend over their spears,
His sisters gaze upward and mourn.
Weep, weep, for Adondo is dead!
The sun has gone down in a shower;
Buried in clouds the face of the moon;
Tears stand in the eyes of the starry skies,
And stand in the eyes of the flowers;
And streams of tears are the trickling brooks,
Coursing adown the mountains.--
Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi:
The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea.
Fast falls the small rain on its bosom that
sobs,--
Not showers of rain, but the tears of Oro.
poem by Herman Melville

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A Lament
The circle is broken, one seat is forsaken,
One bud from the tree of our friendship is shaken;
One heart from among us no longer shall thrill
With joy in our gladness, or grief in our ill.
Weep! lonely and lowly are slumbering now
The light of her glances, the pride of her brow;
Weep! sadly and long shall we listen in vain
To hear the soft tones of her welcome again.
Give our tears to the dead! For humanity's claim
From its silence and darkness is ever the same;
The hope of that world whose existence is bliss
May not stifle the tears of the mourners of this.
For, oh! if one glance the freed spirit can throw
On the scene of its troubled probation below,
Than the pride of the marble, the pomp of the dead,
To that glance will be dearer the tears which we shed.
Oh, who can forget the mild light of her smile,
Over lips moved with music and feeling the while,
The eye's deep enchantment, dark, dream-like, and clear,
In the glow of its gladness, the shade of its tear.
And the charm of her features, while over the whole
Played the hues of the heart and the sunshine of soul;
And the tones of her voice, like the music which seems
Murmured low in our ears by the Angel of dreams!
But holier and dearer our memories hold
Those treasures of feeling, more precious than gold,
The love and the kindness and pity which gave
Fresh flowers for the bridal, green wreaths for the grave!
The heart ever open to Charity's claim,
Unmoved from its purpose by censure and blame,
While vainly alike on her eye and her ear
Fell the scorn of the heartless, the jesting and jeer.
How true to our hearts was that beautiful sleeper
With smiles for the joyful, with tears for the weeper,
Yet, evermore prompt, whether mournful or gay,
With warnings in love to the passing astray.
For, though spotless herself, she could sorrow for them
Who sullied with evil the spirit's pure gem;
And a sigh or a tear could the erring reprove,
And the sting of reproof was still tempered by love.
As a cloud of the sunset, slow melting in heaven,
As a star that is lost when the daylight is given,
As a glad dream of slumber, which wakens in bliss,
She hath passed to the world of the holy from this.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier

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Weep Not Child
weep not child
wipe those tears from your eyes
weep not child
weep not for you are not alone
weep not child
wipe those very tears
surely, over the years
but somewhat he above us cares
your struggle he bears
to wipe them off and clears
the shackles
and tackles
of all scuffles
and troubles
weep not child
for you are not alone.
®ntema, o.p.
[email protected]
©05.09.2011
1325h rs
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema

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Three Lowly Nails
Three lowly nails,
Changed the world for you and me
Three lowly nails,
Were used to attach Jesus to a tree
Three lowly nails,
In each hand and through His feet
Three lowly nails,
Set His people free
Three lowly nails,
Gave us a King for eternity
poem by David Kush

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From: War Is Kind
Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom -
A field where a thousand corpses lie.
Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.
Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,
Raged at his breast, gulped and died,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Swift blazing flag of the regiment,
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
These men were born to drill and die.
Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses lie.
Mother whose heart hung humble as a button
On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
poem by Stephen Crane

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Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind
Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom --
A field where a thousand corpses lie.
Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.
Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,
Raged at his breast, gulped and died,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Swift blazing flag of the regiment,
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
These men were born to drill and die.
Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses lie.
Mother whose heart hung humble as a button
On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
poem by Stephen Crane

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Years of Tears
Years of tears for no ears to hear, lonely for years am I
Years of tears for no ears to hear in silence they dropp and die
Years of tears, hidden deep, I cannot weep, nor cry.
Years of tears, for many fears of dying alone, I sigh.
Years of tears which no one hears as many years go by.
Years of tears in the lonely sky, my tears grow wings and fly.
Years of tears, my smile shines, through its little lines, I lie.
Years of tears, my somber peers through my melancholy eye
Tears of tears, Years of Years, in my soul, I tie.
Years of tears for no ears to hear my tears weep goodbye….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy

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When Poet's Weep
with the monsoon
came the rains
which flooded
waiting landscape
with infinite words
swift rivers of life flow
from excalibur poet's pens
water thirsty souls
with seasons monsoon
comes regeneration rains
poets take up parchment pens
weep oceans of written tears
let compassion flood hearts
battle hard inspire lost souls
with life awaited monsoon
came soul cycle of rains
poem by Terence George Craddock

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Weighed But Found Lacking
Like a fly nestled on the cow's back
Deceived that it's taller than its real size
Arrogance cannot see what it really lacks
And cannot perceive the plank from its eyes.
Proud to declare superiority
And quick to pronounce sweeping judgements,
Arrogance needs little remedy
In making its rules laid in sentiments.
With sight shaded by a controlling Self
All others dim from importance.
Like a book occupying a whole shelf -
All written work pale in its Dominance.
But 'the humble will be exalted,
And as 'pride goes before destruction'
The lowly writers may soon be read -
While the arrogant led to oblivion.
'God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.' (Prov.3: 34)
-
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
February 9,2010
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello

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