DESPAIR is a cowardly thing, And the spirit, suggesting it, bad; In spite of my sins I will sing, That "Mercy is still to be had." For He that has shewn it so far As to give me a sensible heart, How heinous soever they are, Delights in the merciful part. By affliction, so heavy to bear, He searches the wound He would cure: 'Tis his to be kindly severe, 'Tis mine, by his grace, to endure. O! comfort thyself in @3His@1 love, Poor sinful and sorrowful soul! @3Who@1 came, and still comes, from above, To the sick that would fain be made whole: @3Who@1 said, and continues to say, In the deep of a penitent breast, "Come, sinner, to me come away; "I'll meet thee, and bring thee to rest." A refusal to come is absurd; I'll put myself under his care; I'll believe his infallible word, And never,—no, never despair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EVE SPEAKS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE VISIONARY by EMILY JANE BRONTE WITH FLOWERS by EMILY DICKINSON TO WORDSWORTH by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE OLD HOKUM BUNCOMBE by ROBERT EMMET SHERWOOD ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 4. TO THE HON. CHARLES TOWNSHEND, IN THE COUNTRY by MARK AKENSIDE |