Abase

When pride is stripped and honour’s crown is bowed,
We watch the mighty sink, their spirits subdued.
To abase a soul is to pull the bright sky low,
To drag the lofty mountain down to earth’s soft flow.

In humble dust the former giants kneel,
Their laughter muffled, their bold appeals
Now echo faint beneath a stern, subdued tone—
A reminder that greatness, once shone, can be overthrown.

Yet in that lowering, a quiet seed may grow,
For humility can teach what pride will never know.
So let us learn, when we are brought to ground,
That to be abased can make us truly sound.