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| CIX. |
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| CLXXX. |
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 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
THE ASPIRATION.
From the same.
How long, great God, how long must I
Immured in this dark prison lie?
Where through the avenues of sense
My soul has dim intelligence;
Where but faint gleams salute my sight,
Like moonshine in a cloudy night.
When shall I leave this dusky sphere,
And be all mind, all eye, all ear?
Immured in this dark prison lie?
Where through the avenues of sense
My soul has dim intelligence;
343
Like moonshine in a cloudy night.
When shall I leave this dusky sphere,
And be all mind, all eye, all ear?
How cold this clime! And yet my sense
Perceives even here Thy influence.
Even here the magnet's power I feel,
And tremble like the' attracted steel.
And though to beauties less divine
Sometimes my erring heart decline,
Yet soon (so strong the sympathy)
It turns, and points again to Thee.
Perceives even here Thy influence.
Even here the magnet's power I feel,
And tremble like the' attracted steel.
And though to beauties less divine
Sometimes my erring heart decline,
Yet soon (so strong the sympathy)
It turns, and points again to Thee.
I long to see this Excellence,
Which at such distance strikes my sense.
My soul struggles to disengage
Her wings from this her earthy cage:
Wouldst thou, great Love, once set her free,
How would she haste to' unite with Thee!
She'd for no angel's conduct stay,
But fly, and love on all the way.
Which at such distance strikes my sense.
My soul struggles to disengage
Her wings from this her earthy cage:
Wouldst thou, great Love, once set her free,
How would she haste to' unite with Thee!
She'd for no angel's conduct stay,
But fly, and love on all the way.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |