THY lovely saints do bring Thee love, Incense and joy and gold; Fair star with star, fair dove with dove, Beloved by Thee of old. I, Master, neither star nor dove, Have brought Thee sins and tears; Yet I too bring a little love Amid my flaws and fears. A trembling love that faints and fails Yet still is love of Thee, A wondering love that hopes and hails Thy boundless Love of me; Love kindling faith and pure desire, Love following on to bliss, A spark, O Jesu, from Thy fire, A drop from Thine abyss. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LET ME NOT HATE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO MR. S.T. COLERIDGE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE WINDMILL by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES LOVERS' INFINITENESS by JOHN DONNE IN THE SHADOWS: MY EPITAPH by DAVID GRAY (1838-1861) THE EVE OF ST. AGNES by JOHN KEATS RORY O'MORE; OR, ALL FOR GOOD LUCK by SAMUEL LOVER ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON [APRIL 6, 1862] by KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD |