The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
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CONTRITION. |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
341
CONTRITION.
Lord! in a weary labyrinth,
A wilderness of ways,
I've passed the freshness of my youth,—
The summer of my days;
Playing with Fancy's bubble thoughts,
Which as they glittered brake,
Snatching at flowers to feel the thorn,
Or venom of the snake.
A wilderness of ways,
I've passed the freshness of my youth,—
The summer of my days;
Playing with Fancy's bubble thoughts,
Which as they glittered brake,
Snatching at flowers to feel the thorn,
Or venom of the snake.
But now I lay me at Thy feet,
With sad and trembling heart,
Or ere my better feelings fail,
My higher hopes depart,
I come—so late a sinful slave
In folly's low employ,—
To ask those better means of life
Which lead to holier joy.
With sad and trembling heart,
Or ere my better feelings fail,
My higher hopes depart,
I come—so late a sinful slave
In folly's low employ,—
To ask those better means of life
Which lead to holier joy.
In the calm hour of solitude
I lift my pensive eye
To read the burning language writ
Upon the silent sky;
And feel that He who lit the stars
And bade the planets roll,
Can chase the shadow and the strife
That linger in my soul.
I lift my pensive eye
To read the burning language writ
Upon the silent sky;
And feel that He who lit the stars
And bade the planets roll,
Can chase the shadow and the strife
That linger in my soul.
342
With sweet and simultaneous voice
All universal things
Speak of Thy watchful care, and feel
The shadow of Thy wings;
The placid and prolific earth,
The ever-wakeful sea,
And heaven's serene and starry depths,
Declare Thy love and Thee.
All universal things
Speak of Thy watchful care, and feel
The shadow of Thy wings;
The placid and prolific earth,
The ever-wakeful sea,
And heaven's serene and starry depths,
Declare Thy love and Thee.
And wilt Thou not console me, Lord,
Admonish me and guide,
In tribulation's troublous time,
And in the hour of pride?
And wilt Thou not vouchsafe, at last,
By Thine own means, to win
Back to Thy fold an erring child
Of frailty, grief, and sin?
Admonish me and guide,
In tribulation's troublous time,
And in the hour of pride?
And wilt Thou not vouchsafe, at last,
By Thine own means, to win
Back to Thy fold an erring child
Of frailty, grief, and sin?
Thou canst, and when it seemeth good,
Thou wilt afford the clue
Whereby to leave the tangled path
My faltering feet pursue;—
Oh! bring me from the chilling gloom,
The cavern of despair,
That I may see the open day,
And breathe a purer air!
Thou wilt afford the clue
Whereby to leave the tangled path
My faltering feet pursue;—
Oh! bring me from the chilling gloom,
The cavern of despair,
That I may see the open day,
And breathe a purer air!
Oh! help me in my deepest need,
My Father, Friend, and Lord!
And make me drink with eager lip
The waters of Thy word!
So I may rise refreshed and glad,
Unbowed by earthly ill,
My business and my pleasure both
To do Thy holy will.
My Father, Friend, and Lord!
And make me drink with eager lip
The waters of Thy word!
343
Unbowed by earthly ill,
My business and my pleasure both
To do Thy holy will.
For His dear sake who left Thy side
A fallen race to save,
To take all agony from death,
All terror from the grave,
Receive me 'mong the chosen ones
Who journey towards the sky,
And fit me for that Perfect Home
Where bliss can never die.
A fallen race to save,
To take all agony from death,
All terror from the grave,
Receive me 'mong the chosen ones
Who journey towards the sky,
And fit me for that Perfect Home
Where bliss can never die.
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |