O PROPHET, tell me not of peace, Or Christ's all-loving deeds; Death only can from sin release, And death to judgment leads. Thou from thy birth hast set thy face Towards thy Redeemer Lord; To tend and deck His holy place And note His secret word. I ne'er shall reach Heaven's glorious path; Yet haply tears may stay The purpose of His instant wrath, And slake the fiery day. Then plead for one who cannot pray, Whose faith is but despair, Who hates his heart, nor puts away The sin that rankles there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CHRISTMAS GHOST-STORY; CHRISTMAS-EVE 1899 by THOMAS HARDY LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM by THOMAS MOORE CROSSING BROOKLYN FERRY by WALT WHITMAN THE WALLABOUT MARTYRS by WALT WHITMAN SEVEN SAD SONNETS: 1. THE HAPPENING by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS CHEMISTRY OF A POEM by CAROLYN AUSTIN A SONG: REVENGE AGAINST CYNTHIA by PHILIP AYRES EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 27. THE POWER OF ELOQUENCE IN LOVE by PHILIP AYRES |