A FACE tender and wise, God, what power to bless in the pure eyes! All that perfect grace, With no place for "I" or for "mine;" But a look straight out On us weak, strewn all about; A desire to bear, and to bear, and to bear, A fire kept steady, and strong, and clear; A prayer to be let near Unto distress most dire. Arm, O so weak, that would wield A sword for the world, or a shield -- Would embrace the whole world from harm. Little arm, ah! but one caress, To bless me, sweet face, but one charm! |