Lord, grant us grace to rest upon Thy word, To rest in hope until we see Thy Face; To rest thro' toil unruffled and unstirred, Lord, grant us grace. This burden and this heat wear on apace: Night comes, when sweeter than night's singing bird Will swell the silence of our ended race. Ah, songs which flesh and blood have never heard And cannot hear, songs of the silent place Where rest remains! Lord, slake our hope deferred, Lord, grant us grace. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 13. TO MR. H. LAWES, ON HIS AIRS by JOHN MILTON TO HARTLEY COLERIDGE; SIX YEARS OLD by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH PERSISTENCY OF POETRY by MATTHEW ARNOLD AIR AN' LIGHT by WILLIAM BARNES MY PRAYER by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN |