The Better Part

Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of man,
  How angrily thou spurn'st all simpler fare!
  "Christ," some one says, "was human as we are;
  No judge eyes us from Heaven, our sin to scan;
  We live no more when we have done our span."--
  "Well, then, for Christ," thou answerest, "who can care?
  From sin, which Heaven records not, why forbear?
  Live we like brutes our life without a plan!"
  So answerest thou; but why not rather say,
  "Hath man no second life?--Pitch this one high!
  Sits there no judge in Heaven our sin to see?--
  More strictly, then, the inward judge obey!
  Was Christ a man like us?--Ah! let us try
  If we then, too, can be such men as he!"