Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.
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AND 1 do they so? have they a sense | |
Of ought but influence? | |
Can they their heads lift, and expect, | |
And groan too? why, th’ elect | |
Can do no more: my volumes said | 5 |
They were all dull and dead; | |
They judged them senseless, and their state | |
Wholly inanimate. | |
Go, go; seal up thy looks, | |
And burn thy books. | 10 |
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I would I were a stone, or tree, | |
Or flow’r by pedigree, | |
Or some poor highway herb, or spring | |
To flow, or bird to sing! | |
Then should I, tied to one sure state, | 15 |
All day expect my date. | |
But I am sadly loose, and stray | |
A giddy blast each way; | |
O let me not thus range! | |
Thou canst not change. | 20 |
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Sometimes I sit with Thee, and tarry | |
An hour or so, then vary. | |
Thy other creatures in this scene | |
Thee only aim and mean; | |
Some rise to seek Thee, and with heads | 25 |
Erect peep from their beds; | |
Others, whose birth is in the tomb, | |
And cannot quit the womb, | |
Sigh there, and groan for Thee, | |
Their liberty. | 30 |
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O let not me do less! shall they | |
Watch, while I sleep or play? | |
Shall I Thy mercies still abuse | |
With fancies, friends, or news? | |
O brook it not! Thy blood is mine, | 35 |
And my soul should be Thine; | |
O brook it not! why wilt Thou stop | |
After whole show’rs one drop? | |
Sure Thou wilt joy to see | |
Thy sheep with Thee. | 40 |