Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/232



I was led astray By pride, in ray own strength secure. The idols the world holds divine, The talent I was told was mine, My singer's voice, were all malign Seductions unto Satan's lure. But God (I praise Him) for me wrought, Left not His erring sheep unsought, He help'd me in my hour of need.

Help'd you—in what way?

Yes, indeed:— I fell.

Fell? How?

To dissipation. With gambling tastes He me imbued—

And that was God's solicitude?

'Twas the first step to my salvation. On that my health He undermined, The talent from my fingers fled, My love of revelry declined, Then, to the hospital consign'd, Long I lay sick, and round my bed Flames seem'd to glare, and on each wall