Thou hast made me, and shall Thy work decay? Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste; I run to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday. I dare not move my dim eyes any way, Despair behind, and death before doth cast Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh. Only Thou art above, and when towards Thee By Thy leave I can look, I rise again; But our subtle foe so tempteth me That not one hour myself I can sustain. Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art, And Thou like adamant draw mine iron heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBERT GOULD SHAW by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR PARADISE by FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER THE COMMON LOT by JAMES MONTGOMERY A WOMAN'S ANSWER by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER BETH GELERT; OR, THE GRAVE OF THE GREYHOUND by WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER PARADISE by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN |