Lord, if Thy hand, with swift, indignant sweep, Drove them afar to some unholy deep -- These foul, unconquerable shapes of woe That weigh upon my soul and shame me so; Lord, if Thy loveliness, all perfect-fair, Might awe these blots to hell and leave them there, Thyself unscarred by any sin of mine, And I in wondering pureness left to shine; If that could be --! But oh, the bitterness, My burdens on Thy radiant form to press, My foulness on Thy purity, my sin Upon Thy love, all glorious within! This be my battle impulse when the host Of evil passions throng and tempt me most, The thought that one beneath my shame must bow, I, trembling, or, O Burden-Bearer, Thou! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EVENING SONG OF THE THOUGHTFUL CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD INTERRACIAL by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MAGRADY GRAHAM by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: TENNESSEE CLAFLIN SHOPE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS PLAYING SOMEONE ELSE'S PIANO by KAREN SWENSON |