WHEN I look back upon my former race, Seasons I see at which the Inward Ray More brightly burn'd, or guided some new way; Truth, in its wealthier scene and nobler space Given for my eye to range, and feet to trace. And next I mark, 'twas trial did convey, Or grief or pain, or strange eventful day, To my tormented soul such larger grace. So now, whene'er, in journeying on, I feel The shadow of the Providential Hand, Deep breathless stirrings shoot across my breast, Searching to know what He will now reveal, What sink uncloak, what stricter rule command, And girding me to work His full behest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TEMERAIRE by HERMAN MELVILLE KIT CARSON'S RIDE by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER FRENCH REVOLUTION; AS IT APPEARED TO ENTHUSIASTS AT ITS COMMENCEMENT by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A STIRRUP-CUP by DOUGLAS AINSLIE |