dots-menu
×

Home  »  Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse  »  Ah, that sharp thrill through all my frame!

Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.

By Edward Dowden (1843–1913)

Ah, that sharp thrill through all my frame!

 
AH, 1 that sharp thrill through all my frame!
  And yet once more! Withstand
I can no longer; in Thy name
  I yield me to Thy hand.
 
Such pangs were in the soul unborn,        5
  The fear, the joy were such,
When first it felt in that keen morn
  A dread creating touch.
 
Maker of man, Thy pressure sure
  This grosser stuff must quell;        10
The spirit faints, yet will endure;
  Subdue, control, compel.
 
The Potter’s finger shaping me—
  Praise, praise! the clay curves up
Not for dishonour, though it be        15
  God’s least adornèd cup.
 
Note 1. From “Poems” (1876). [back]