A memorial volume of sacred poetry by the late Sir John Bowring. To which is prefixed, a memoir of the author, by Lady Bowring |
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Aspirations after Truth.
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 | A memorial volume of sacred poetry |  |
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Aspirations after Truth.
The blank, exhausting pleasure leaves,
Nought but the power of truth can fill,
When disappointed virtue grieves
O'er hopeless purpose, helpless will:
No light to guide its steps is given,
But in a ray direct from heaven.
Nought but the power of truth can fill,
When disappointed virtue grieves
O'er hopeless purpose, helpless will:
No light to guide its steps is given,
But in a ray direct from heaven.
Th'enjoyments of the senses pall,
The charms of wealth grow dull and dim;
'Tis vanity and folly all—
Man finds they were not made for him;
They were not made to satisfy
A spirit that would soar so high;—
The charms of wealth grow dull and dim;
'Tis vanity and folly all—
Man finds they were not made for him;
They were not made to satisfy
A spirit that would soar so high;—
So high, that neither space nor time
Can bound its view nor stop its flight;
So high, that in its course sublime
It seeks the fountain-head of light;
And cannot rest but near the seat
Of all that's glorious, wise, and great.
Can bound its view nor stop its flight;
So high, that in its course sublime
It seeks the fountain-head of light;
And cannot rest but near the seat
Of all that's glorious, wise, and great.
| A memorial volume of sacred poetry | |