MY soul is sad, and much dismayed; See, Lord, what legions of my foes, With fierce Apollyon at their head, My heavenly pilgrimage oppose! See, from the ever-burning lake, How like a smoky cloud they rise! With horrid blasts my soul they shake, With storms of blasphemies and lies. Their fiery arrows reach the mark, My throbbing heart with anguish tear; Each lights upon a kindred spark, And finds abundant fuel there. I hate the thought that wrongs the Lord; OH! I would drive it from my breast, With thy own sharp two-edged sword, Far as the east is from the west. Come, then, and chase the cruel host, Heal the deep wounds I have received! Nor let the powers of darkness boast That I am foiled, and thou art grieved! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WARPED FLOWER by SHEILA BARBOUR WIND SONG by LUCIA PEARL BOORNAZIAN THE BATTLE-FIELD OF RASZYN by KAZIMIERZ BRODZINSKI OLD LOVES by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON A NIGHT-PICTURE by CHRISTOPHER PEARSE CRANCH THE SECEDERS: 2 by CHRISTOPHER PEARSE CRANCH |