O Holy Ghost, whose temple I Am, but of mudde walls, and condensed dust, And being sacrilegiously Halfe wasted with youths fires, of pride and lust, Must with new stormes be weatherbeat; Double in my heart thy flame, Which let devout sad teares intend; and let (Though this glasse lanthorne, flesh, do suffer maime) Fire, Sacrifice, Priest, Altar be the same. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PLANTATION BACCHANAL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 5. THE DANCING GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE SPARROW HARK IN THE RAIN (ALEXANDER STEPHENS HEARS NEWS) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS FIRST FRUIT by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE SEA-GRAVE by SARA TEASDALE |