AT home the youthful Francis prayed: "Give me not wealth galore, Unless, sweet Lord, thou givest too A love of Thine own poor. But, Lord, I still would ask of Thee Those other riches fair— Of Thy choice grace which Thou alone With Saints art wont to share. I would not Lord nor wouldst Thou have That after loving Thee, I raze from out my heart all thought Of poor humanity. There was a sacred bush of old Wrapped round with flaring fire, Nor yet with all the flames' white heat Did it consume the briar. So, Lord, send to my frigid heart The love flame from above, But do not from my human heart Expel all human love." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EVERYONE SANG by SIEGFRIED SASSOON THE DOOR-BELL by CHARLOTTE BECKER PSALM 40. EXPECTANS EXPECTAVI by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE GOD'S HUMOR by GAMALIEL BRADFORD GIFTS AND GIVERS by BERTON BRALEY ARISTOMENES by GEORGE GORDON BYRON BALLAD TO THE TUNE - 'I WOULD GIVE TWENTY POUND' by PATRICK CAREY |