O God, impart Thy blessing to my cries, Tho' I trust deeply, yet I daily err; The waters of my heart are oft astir, An Angel's there! and yet I cannot rise! I wish that Christ were here among us still, Proffering his bosom to his servant's brow, But oh! that holy voice comes o'er us now Like twilight echoes from a distant hill: No mountain-sermons, and no ruthful gaze! No voice sweet-ton'd, and blessing all the time! No cheerly credence gather'd from his face! No path thro' hamlets in the eve or prime! No gentle prayers for all our faded race! And those whose hearts are half-unstrung with crime. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NEBUCHADNEZZAR: OR EATING GRASS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE THANKSGIVING IN BOSTON HARBOR [JUNE 12, 1630] by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH THE RETIRED CAT by WILLIAM COWPER AN ESCAPE by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: THE FIRST CANTO, OR NEW MOON by WILLIAM BASSE THESEUS AND ARIADNE by FRANCIS BEAUMONT BEYOND RECALL by MARY EMILY NEELEY BRADLEY PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY: OF PROPRIETY by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY |