Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.
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STERN 1 Daughter of the Voice of God, | |
O Duty! if that name thou love, | |
Who art a light to guide, a rod | |
To check the erring, and reprove; | |
Thou, who art victory and law | 5 |
When empty terrors overawe, | |
From vain temptations dost set free; | |
And calm’st the weary strife of frail humanity! | |
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There are who ask not if thine eye | |
Be on them; who, in love and truth, | 10 |
Where no misgiving is, rely | |
Upon the genial sense of youth: | |
Glad hearts! without reproach or blot; | |
Who do thy work; and know it not: | |
Long may the kindly impulse last! | 15 |
But thou, if they should totter, teach them to stand fast! | |
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Serene will be our days and bright, | |
And happy will our nature be, | |
When love is an unerring light, | |
And joy its own security. | 20 |
And they a blissful course may hold | |
Even now, who, not unwisely bold, | |
Live in the spirit of this creed; | |
Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. | |
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I, loving freedom, and untried, | 25 |
No sport of every random gust, | |
Yet being to myself a guide, | |
Too blindly have reposed my trust; | |
And oft, when in my heart was heard | |
Thy timely mandate, I deferred | 30 |
The task, in smoother walks to stray; | |
But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. | |
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Through no disturbance of my soul, | |
Or strong compunction in me wrought, | |
I supplicate for thy control; | 35 |
But in the quietness of thought: | |
Me this unchartered freedom tires; | |
I feel the weight of chance-desires: | |
My hopes no more must change their name, | |
I long for a repose that ever is the same. | 40 |
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Stern Law-giver! yet thou dost wear | |
The Godhead’s most benignant grace; | |
Nor know we anything so fair | |
As is the smile upon thy face: | |
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds | 45 |
And fragrance in thy footing treads; | |
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; | |
And the most ancient heavens, through thee, are fresh and strong. | |
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To humbler functions, awful Power! | |
I call thee; I myself commend | 50 |
Unto thy guidance from this hour; | |
Oh, let my weakness have an end! | |
Give unto me, made lowly wise, | |
The spirit of self-sacrifice; | |
The confidence of reason give, | 55 |
And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live! | |