Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.
Sir John Bowring 17921872From the Recesses
BowringF
My humble prayer ascends: O Father! hear it.
Upsoaring on the wings of fear and meekness,
Forgive its weakness.
The trembling sacrifice I pour before thee;
What can I offer in thy presence holy,
But sin and folly?
Cold are our warmest vows and vain our truest;
Thoughts of a hurrying hour; our lips repeat them,
Our hearts forget them.
We hear thy voice—it counsels and it courts us;
And then we turn away—and still thy kindness
Pardons our blindness.
Fruits ripen round, flowers are beneath us blowing,
And, as if man were some deserving creature,
Joys cover nature.
To win with love the wandering; thou invitest
By smiles of mercy, not by frowns or terrors,
Man from his errors.
To every generous thought and grateful feeling?
That voice paternal whispering, watching ever,
My bosom?—never.
These seeds of holiness; and bid them blossom
In fragrance and in beauty bright and vernal,
And spring eternal.
Where angels walk, and seraphs are the wardens;
Where every flower that creeps through death’s dark portal
Becomes immortal.