Myself unholy, from myself unholy

Myself unholy, from myself unholy
To the sweet living of my friends I look —
Eye-greeting doves bright-counter to the rook,
Fresh brooks to salt sand-teasing waters shoaly: — ┬░
And they are purer, but alas! not solely
The unquestion'd readings of a blotless book.
And so my trust confused, struck, and shook┬░
Yields to the sultry siege of melancholy.
He has a sin of mine, he its near brother,┬░
Knowing them well I can but see the fall.
This fault in one I found, that in another:
And so, though each have one while I have all,
No better serves me now, save best ; no other,
Save Christ: to Christ I look, on Christ I call.
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