TIME was, I shrank from what was right From fear of what was wrong; I would not brave the sacred fight, Because the foe was strong. But now I cast that finer sense And sorer shame aside; Such dread of sin was indolence, Such aim at Heaven was pride. So, when my Saviour calls, I rise, And calmly do my best; Leaving to Him, with silent eyes Of hope and fear, the rest. I step, I mount where He has led; Men count my haltings o'er; -- I know them; yet, though self I dread, I love His precept more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LESSER EPISTLES: TO A LADY ON HER PASSION FOR OLD CHINA by JOHN GAY THE DESERTED VILLAGE by OLIVER GOLDSMITH CHARLESTON by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE THE OLD CHURCHYARD OF BONCHURCH by PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON LAUGHING CORN by CARL SANDBURG DRAPIER'S HILL by JONATHAN SWIFT |