THOUGH sorrows rise, and dangers roll In waves of darkness o'er my soul, Though friends are false and love decays, And few and evil are my days, Though conscience, fiercest of my foes, Swells with remember'd guilt my woes, Yet ev'n in nature's utmost ill, I love Thee, Lord! I love Thee still! Though Sinai's curse, in thunder dread, Peals o'er mine unprotected head, And memory points with busy pain, To grace and mercy given in vain, Till nature, shrinking in the strife, Would fly to hell to 'scape from life, Though every thought has power to kill, I love Thee, Lord! I love Thee still! Oh, by the pangs Thyself hast borne, The ruffian's blow, the tyrant's scorn; By Sinai's curse, whose dreadful doom Was buried in Thy guiltless tomb: By these my pangs, whose healing smart Thy grace hath planted in my heart; I know, I feel, Thy bounteous will! Thou lovest me, Lord! Thou lovest me still! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRAGMENT by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TOMMY [ATKINS] by RUDYARD KIPLING FOR THE YOUNGEST by CHARLES WESLEY THE BIRDS: THE HYMN OF THE BIRDS by ARISTOPHANES THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE WALNUT-TREE OF BOARSTELL: CANTO 1 by WILLIAM BASSE URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: DEDICATION TO LADY PENELOPE DYNHAM by WILLIAM BASSE |