Lord, if Thy hand, with swift, indignant sweep, Drove them afar to some unholy deep -- These foul, unconquerable shapes of woe That weigh upon my soul and shame me so; Lord, if Thy loveliness, all perfect-fair, Might awe these blots to hell and leave them there, Thyself unscarred by any sin of mine, And I in wondering pureness left to shine; If that could be --! But oh, the bitterness, My burdens on Thy radiant form to press, My foulness on Thy purity, my sin Upon Thy love, all glorious within! This be my battle impulse when the host Of evil passions throng and tempt me most, The thought that one beneath my shame must bow, I, trembling, or, O Burden-Bearer, Thou! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD by THEODORE O'HARA THE ROSE (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE SANDPIPER by CELIA LEIGHTON THAXTER MONODY ON THE DEATH OF WENDELL PHILLIPS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ON FEATHER BEDS by JOHN ARMSTRONG ON SEEING AN OFFICER'S WIDOW DISTRACTED - ARREARS OF PENSION by MARY BARBER SPLENDID ISOLATION; A MORAL FROM LEXINTON, 1775 by KATHARINE LEE BATES |