A gallery of famous English and American poets . y the lonesome hour. Sun of my soul! Thou Saviour cleai,It is not night if Thou be near:Oh! may no earth-born cloud ariseTo hide Thee ft-om Thy servants eyes. When round Thy wondrous works belowMy searching ra|)turous glance I throw,Tracing out Wisdom, Power, and Love,In earth or sky, in stream or grove;— Or by the light Thy words discloseWatch Times full river as it flows,Scanning Thy gracious Providence,Where not too deep for mortal sense ;— When with dear friends sweet talk I hold,And all the flowers of life unfold;Let not my heart within me
A gallery of famous English and American poets . y the lonesome hour. Sun of my soul! Thou Saviour cleai,It is not night if Thou be near:Oh! may no earth-born cloud ariseTo hide Thee ft-om Thy servants eyes. When round Thy wondrous works belowMy searching ra|)turous glance I throw,Tracing out Wisdom, Power, and Love,In earth or sky, in stream or grove;— Or by the light Thy words discloseWatch Times full river as it flows,Scanning Thy gracious Providence,Where not too deep for mortal sense ;— When with dear friends sweet talk I hold,And all the flowers of life unfold;Let not my heart within me burn,Except in all I Thee discern. When the soft dews of kindly sleepMy wearied eyehds gently my last thought, how sweet to restForever on my Saviours breast. Abide with me from morn till eve,For without Thee I cannot live;Abide with me when night is nigh,For without Tliee I dare not die. •254 KEBLE. Thou Framer of the Hght and dark,Steer through the tempest Thine own arlAmid the liowling wintry seaWe are in port if we have The Rulers of this Christian land,Twixt Thee and us ordained to stand,—Guide Thou their course, 0 Lord, aright,Let all do all as in Thy sight. EVENING. 255 Oh ! by Thine own sad burthen, boraeSo meekly up the hill of scorn,Teach Thou Thy Priests their daily cressTo bear as Thine, nor count it loss! If some poor wandering child of ThineHave spurned, to-day, the voice divine,Now, Lord, the gracious work begin;Let him no more lie down in sin. Watch by the sick: enrich the poorWith blessings from Thy boundless store:Be every mourners sleep to-nightLike infants slumbers, pure and light. Come near and bless us when we through the world our way we take:Till in the ocean of Thy loveWe lose ourselves in Heaven above. SHELLEY.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksu, booksubjectenglishpoetry
