AT morn I ask Thee, lend Thy shelt'ring aid! My hopes and fears before Thy Throne are laid. Like one abashed I stand, prostrate before Thy might, My new-awakened heart hides nothing from Thy sight! My heart, my tongue, too, fails To utter what avails! My skill, my strength, are naught! But Thou, of grace, dost take The prayers which mortals make, The prayers Thy love has taught. So shall my voice ascend, Until my life shall end; The while, within my body's shrine, Dwelleth my soul, Thy gift divine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME' by ROBERT BROWNING HER LIKENESS by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK AFTER THE LAST BREATH (J.H. 1813-1904) by THOMAS HARDY SONNET: WRITTEN ON THE DAY THAT MR. LEIGH HUNT LEFT PRISON by JOHN KEATS MOTHER'S WORLD by MARGARET H. ALDEN VENDEMIAIRE by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE THE GULF by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |