09.08.2014, 14:12
AB IMO PECTORE
I
LORD of pure hopes and holy influence !
Fill all my heart with soft assuaging thoughts,
Let me be touched with that divinest sense
Which is not hasty in unmannered torts,
But goes in wistful silence, like a nun
Wrapped in her veil of mercies through the earth
To tender ministrations ; let me shun
The cold thin laughter of the cynic's mirth,
The miser's lust, the cheat's degrading plots,
The pride of place and social circumstance,
And all th' intemperate fevers that are blots
Upon the soul's white radiance of romance ;
Destroy all spites, O Lord ! all secret evils
That hold me down to sympathy for devils.
II
BE pitiful, O God ! through all the years !
And when I cannot see Thy glories shine
On field or sky, nor any light divine
In my own heart because of bitter tears
That blind me, and when darkness reigns, and fears
Annul my joys, and my sad spirits pine
Like flowers drenched in rain of burning brine,
Or tender buds a freezing season sears,
O Lord ! of mercies then, and peaceful days,
And immemorial quiet, let me feel
(Even me, alas ! who cannot rightly plead)
The full inflowing fervour of Thy grace,
Which in my heart perchance may come to heal
The piteous wounds that now for ever bleed.
III
AH ! God ! I said, is this my way to go ?
This rayless pit where murky mists uproll,
Cold as a wind that wanders round the pole,
Must I endure its unimagined woe,
And strain to quell its terrors, till I grow
Blind as a runner ere he touch the goal,
And as he loses, shall I lose control
Of heart and limb, and perish even so ?
No voice makes answer, and no beams dispel
The pall of doubt that on my spirit lies ;
No songs of joy enchant ; no silver bell
Rings out glad peals through these disastrous skies ;
But on this path that circles down to hell
Only wild echoes of despair arise.
IV
THIS is the time no other now at last,
Free from the sins that held my soul in bonds,
As slimy things are held in slimy ponds,
And may not 'scape, now ere the conquered past
(That like a demon with wild eyes aghast,
Stares from behind huge poison-spotted fronds)
Infects me with the spirit that responds
To the old habits I have lately cast
Wholly behind me, now let me be quick
To run upon the path that leads ahead,
Not daunted, nor confused by any trick
Of circumstances ; but seeing still the red
Far dawn that soon will be a blaze of light
If only I refuse to think of night.
I
LORD of pure hopes and holy influence !
Fill all my heart with soft assuaging thoughts,
Let me be touched with that divinest sense
Which is not hasty in unmannered torts,
But goes in wistful silence, like a nun
Wrapped in her veil of mercies through the earth
To tender ministrations ; let me shun
The cold thin laughter of the cynic's mirth,
The miser's lust, the cheat's degrading plots,
The pride of place and social circumstance,
And all th' intemperate fevers that are blots
Upon the soul's white radiance of romance ;
Destroy all spites, O Lord ! all secret evils
That hold me down to sympathy for devils.
II
BE pitiful, O God ! through all the years !
And when I cannot see Thy glories shine
On field or sky, nor any light divine
In my own heart because of bitter tears
That blind me, and when darkness reigns, and fears
Annul my joys, and my sad spirits pine
Like flowers drenched in rain of burning brine,
Or tender buds a freezing season sears,
O Lord ! of mercies then, and peaceful days,
And immemorial quiet, let me feel
(Even me, alas ! who cannot rightly plead)
The full inflowing fervour of Thy grace,
Which in my heart perchance may come to heal
The piteous wounds that now for ever bleed.
III
AH ! God ! I said, is this my way to go ?
This rayless pit where murky mists uproll,
Cold as a wind that wanders round the pole,
Must I endure its unimagined woe,
And strain to quell its terrors, till I grow
Blind as a runner ere he touch the goal,
And as he loses, shall I lose control
Of heart and limb, and perish even so ?
No voice makes answer, and no beams dispel
The pall of doubt that on my spirit lies ;
No songs of joy enchant ; no silver bell
Rings out glad peals through these disastrous skies ;
But on this path that circles down to hell
Only wild echoes of despair arise.
IV
THIS is the time no other now at last,
Free from the sins that held my soul in bonds,
As slimy things are held in slimy ponds,
And may not 'scape, now ere the conquered past
(That like a demon with wild eyes aghast,
Stares from behind huge poison-spotted fronds)
Infects me with the spirit that responds
To the old habits I have lately cast
Wholly behind me, now let me be quick
To run upon the path that leads ahead,
Not daunted, nor confused by any trick
Of circumstances ; but seeing still the red
Far dawn that soon will be a blaze of light
If only I refuse to think of night.