The Kite, or the Fall of Pride

The Kite, or the Fall of Pride
John Newton

My waking dreams are best concealed,
Much folly, little good they yield.
But now and then I gain when sleeping
A friendly hint that’s worth the keeping.

Lately I dreamt of one who cried
“Beware of self, beware of pride;
When you are prone to build a Babel
Recall to mind this little fable.”

Once upon a time a paper kite
Was mounted to a wondrous height,
Where, giddy with its elevation,
It thus expressed self-admiration:

"See how yon crowds of gazing people
Admire my flight above the steeple;
How would they wonder if they knew
All that a kite like me can do!

Were I but free, I'd take a flight,
And pierce the clouds beyond their sight,
But, ah! like a poor pris'ner bound,
My string confines me near the ground;

I'd brave the eagle's towering wing,
Might I but fly without a string."
It tugged and pull, while thus it spoke,
To break the string--at last it broke.

Deprived at once of all its stay,
In vain it tried to soar away;
Unable its own weight to bear,
It fluttered downward through the air;

Unable its own course to guide,
The winds soon plunged it in the tide.
Ah! foolish kite, thou hadst no wing,
How could'st thou fly without a string!

My heart replied, “O Lord, I see
How much this kite resembles me!
Forgetful that by thee I stand,
Impatient of thy ruling hand;

“How oft I’ve wished to break the lines
Thy wisdom for my lot assigns?
How oft indulged a vain desire
For something more or something higher.
And but for grace or love divine,
A fall thus dreadful had been mine.”

*****

The author, John Newton, wrote the lyrics to Amazing Grace.