With golden Censers, and with Incense, here, Before Thy Virgin-Altar I appeare, To pay Thee that I owe, since what I see In, or without; all, all belongs to Thee: Where shall I now begin to make, for one Least loane of Thine, half Restitution? Alas! I cannot pay a jot; therefore I'le kisse the Tally, and confesse the score. Ten thousand Talents lent me, Thou dost write: 'Tis true, my God; but I can't pay one mite. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHOIR INVISIBLE by MARY ANN EVANS THE WHITE SHIPS AND THE RED by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER UNION SONG by ERNST MORITZ ARNDT DEJECTION by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD MAN'S INHUMANITY TO MAN by ALBERT LINDLEY BEANE TO S-----D (2) by WILLIAM BLAKE |