There never was a saint yet, that grew proud of his fine
feathers, but what the Lord plucked them out one by one.
There never yet was an angel that had pride in his heart,
but he lost his wings, and fell into Hell, as Satan and
those fallen angels did.
And there shall never be a saint who indulges in self-conceit,
pride, and self-confidence, but the Lord will spoil his glories,
and trample his honors in the mud, and make him cry out--
"Lord have mercy on me," the least of all saints, and the
"very chief of sinners."