ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS
XVIII. APOLOGY
ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS
NOR scorn the aid which Fancy oft doth lend The Soul’s eternal interests to promote: Death, darkness, danger, are our natural lot; And evil Spirits ‘may’ our walk attend For aught the wisest know or comprehend; Then be ‘good’ Spirits free to breathe a note Of elevation; let their odours float Around these Converts; and their glories blend, The midnight stars outshining, or the blaze Of the noon-day. Nor doubt that golden cords 10 Of good works, mingling with the visions, raise The Soul to purer worlds: and ‘who’ the line Shall draw, the limits of the power define, That even imperfect faith to man affords?