DEAR gracious Lord, if that thy pain Doth make me well, if I have strayed Past mercy, let my hands be laid One in the other; not in vain Would I be dressed, Lord, in the beauteous clay Which thou did'st put away. But if thou yet canst find in me A vine, though trailing on the ground, That might be straightened up, and bound To any good, so let it be; And, haply at the last, some tendrilring Unto thy hand shall cling. I have been too much used, I know, To tell my needs in fretful words. The clamoring of the silly birds, Impatient for their wings to grow, Has thy forgiveness; O my blessed Lord, The like to me accord. Of grace, as much as will complete Thy will in me, I pray thee for; Even as a rose shut in a drawer, That maketh all about it sweet, I would be, rather than the cedar, fine, Help me, thou Power divine. Fill thou my heart with love as full As any lily with the rain; Unteach me ever to complain, And make my scarlet sins as wool; Yea, wash me, even with sorrows, clean and fair, As lightnings do the air. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHANNON AND THE CHESAPEAKE [JUNE 1, 1813] by THOMAS TRACY BOUVE ON MUSIC by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR NEARER by ROBERT MALISE BOWYER NICHOLS IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: PROEM by ALFRED TENNYSON THANKSGIVING DAY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH FAREWELL TO SUMMER by GEORGE ARNOLD THE JUDGMENT by KATHARINE LEE BATES |