28. The Sign of the Cross
|
{69}
WHENE'ER across this sinful flesh of mine |
| I draw the Holy Sign, |
| All good thoughts stir within me, and renew |
| Their slumbering strength divine; |
| Till there springs up a courage high and true |
| To suffer and to do. |
And who shall say, but hateful spirits around, |
| For their brief hour unbound, |
| Shudder to see, and wail their overthrow? |
| While on far heathen ground |
| Some lonely Saint hails the fresh odour, though |
| Its source he cannot know. |
Oxford.
November 25, 1832. |