  How habit grows no one e'er knows, And yet he is a giant That has a will and subtle skill That never yet was pliant. 'Tis very plain that he has slain More than the sword and spear, With wily art he charms the heart And quells the greatest fear. His artful eye is wondrous sly And has bewitching glance, Where'er he moves his victim loves To see his powers advance. He makes no noise 'mong girls and boys Whom he would call his own, His spell is cast, he holds them fast Till they are overthrown. When this is done the field is won, And they are all his own, He heeds no cry, no choking sigh, No plea, no prayer, no groan. If you would be forever free From tyrant so severe, Watch every thought before you're caught, For he is hovering near. Your every word guard with the sword Of truth, which never fails, Its honor's sung in every tongue, Its power e'er prevails. Act well your part, and keep your heart Free from the tares he sows, For at the end like traitor friend He leaves you with your woes. Thus Habit mars with wounds and scars The favored of our race, Transforms the mind that God designed Should be the dwelling place Of noble thought with heaven fraught Into a sterile plain, Whose atmosphere is dank and drear— A wild chaotic brain. Man scarce may be entirely free From wiles and tricks and snares, Whose stealthy forms and subtle charms Approach us unawares. Our eyes are blind or not inclined To see that powerful hand, That silently, yet forcibly Gives us its strong command. |
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