Sonnet Cv:

CV If thou art sinful, there are thousands then Who howl from pulpits, and make dreary night Of texts as barefaced as the morning light, Who more deserve the Angel's damning pen-- That tribe of bitter and self-righteous men Who, in God's name, fill earth with wild affright, Afflict our very virtues with a blight, Till heaven's great dome becomes a murky den. No man can say he ever looked on thee, And from thy presence went not happier far, Thanking kind Heaven that such as thee there are. The hidden goodness others boast, we see Revealed in thee to common sight, as we See God's own radiance in a tranquil star.