O HOLY Lord, who with the Children Three Didst walk the piercing flame, Help, in those trial-hours, which, save to Thee I dare not name; Nor let these quivering eyes and sickening heart Crumble to dust beneath the Tempter's dart. Thou, who didst once Thy life from Mary's breast Renew from day to day, Oh, might her smile, severely sweet, but rest On this frail clay! Till I am Thine with my whole soul; and fear, Not feel a secret joy, that Hell is near. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER by GEORGE CANNING BREAKFAST by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON PELTERS OF PYRAMIDS by RICHARD HENGIST (HENRY) HORNE LOVE AND LIFE. A SONG by JOHN WILMOT SPRING SONG IN THE CITY by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN |