LORD, in this dust Thy sovereign voice |
| First quicken'd
love divine; |
| I am all Thine,—Thy care and choice, |
| My very praise is
Thine. |
I praise Thee, while Thy providence |
| In childhood frail
I trace, |
| For blessings given, ere dawning sense |
| Could seek or scan
Thy grace; |
Blessings in boyhood's marvelling hour, |
| Bright dreams, and
fancyings strange; |
| Blessings, when reason's awful power |
| Gave thought a
bolder range; {46} |
Blessings of friends, which to my door |
| Unask'd, unhoped,
have come; |
| And, choicer still, a countless store |
| Of eager smiles at
home. |
Yet, Lord, in memory's fondest place |
| I shrine those
seasons sad, |
| When, looking up, I saw Thy face |
| In kind austereness
clad. |
I would not miss one sigh or tear, |
| Heart-pang, or
throbbing brow; |
| Sweet was the chastisement severe, |
| And sweet its
memory now. |
Yes! let the fragrant scars abide, |
| Love-tokens in Thy
stead, |
| Faint shadows of the spear-pierced side |
| And thorn-encompass'd
head. |
And such Thy tender force be still, |
| When self would
swerve or stray, |
| Shaping to truth the froward will |
| Along Thy narrow
way. {47} |
Deny me wealth; far, far remove |
| The lure of power
or name; |
| Hope thrives in straits, in weakness love, |
| And faith in this
world's shame. |
Oxford.
October 20, 1829. |