DEAR gracious Lord, if that thy pain Doth make me well, if I have strayed Past mercy, let my hands be laid One in the other; not in vain Would I be dressed, Lord, in the beauteous clay Which thou did'st put away. But if thou yet canst find in me A vine, though trailing on the ground, That might be straightened up, and bound To any good, so let it be; And, haply at the last, some tendrilring Unto thy hand shall cling. I have been too much used, I know, To tell my needs in fretful words. The clamoring of the silly birds, Impatient for their wings to grow, Has thy forgiveness; O my blessed Lord, The like to me accord. Of grace, as much as will complete Thy will in me, I pray thee for; Even as a rose shut in a drawer, That maketh all about it sweet, I would be, rather than the cedar, fine, Help me, thou Power divine. Fill thou my heart with love as full As any lily with the rain; Unteach me ever to complain, And make my scarlet sins as wool; Yea, wash me, even with sorrows, clean and fair, As lightnings do the air. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE PUMPKIN by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER WHEN HELEN LIVED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ADESTE FIDELES by BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX IN THE NIGHT by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT CAELI by FRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: A FANCY by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |