Make, make me Thine, my gracious God, Or with thy staffe, or with thy rod; And be the blow too what it will, Lord, I will kisse it, though it kill: Beat me, bruise me, rack me, rend me, Yet, in torments, I'le commend Thee: Examine me with fire, and prove me To the full, yet I will love Thee: Nor shalt thou give so deep a wound, But I as patient will be found. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAPPER KAPLINSKI AT THE NORTH SIDE CUE CLUB by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOR ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S EVE by MALCOLM COWLEY PLEDGE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SUNSET by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON HIS CAVALIER by ROBERT HERRICK |