BREATHE from the gentle south, O Lord, And cheer me from the north; Blow on the treasures of thy word, And call the spices forth! I wish, thou know'st, to be resigned, And wait with patient hope; But hope delayed fatigues the mind, And drinks the spirit up. Help me to reach the distant goal; Confirm my feeble knee; Pity the sickness of a soul That faints for love of thee! Cold as I feel this heart of mine, Yet, since I feel it so, It yields some hope of life divine Within, however low: I seem forsaken and alone, I hear the lion roar; And every door is shut but one, And that is Mercy's door. There, till the dear Deliverer come, I'll wait with humble prayer; And when he calls his exile home, The Lord shall find him there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ANSWER TO MASTER WITHER'S SONG, 'SHALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR?' by BEN JONSON AN OLD WOMAN (2) by MOTHER GOOSE DARWINISM by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON A SHADOW OF THE NIGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DESTINY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ACHIEVEMENT by MORRIS ABEL BEER |