King of Mercy, King of Love, In whom I live, in whom I move, Perfect what thou hast begun, Let no night put out this Sun; Grant I may, my chief desire! Long for thee, to thee aspire, Let my youth, my bloom of days Be my comfort and thy praise, That hereafter, when I look O'er the sullied, sinful book, I may find thy hand therein Wiping out my shame and sin. O it is thy only Art To reduce a stubborn heart, And since thine is victory, Strongholds should belong to thee; Lord then take it, leave it not Unto my dispose or lot, But since I would not have it mine, O my God, let it be thine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAY OF THE CONVENTICLE OF THE TREES by HAYDEN CARRUTH IN TALL GRASS by CARL SANDBURG FRAGMENT ON DEATH by FRANCOIS VILLON SONNET: INSCRIPTION FOR A PORTRAIT OF DANTE by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO TO STATECRAFT EMBALMED by MARIANNE MOORE THE OLD HOKUM BUNCOMBE by ROBERT EMMET SHERWOOD |