 | The Poetry of Robert Burns |  |
A PRAYER IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH
O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause
Of all my hope and fear!
In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!
Of all my hope and fear!
In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!
If I have wander'd in those paths
Of life I ought to shun—
As something, loudly, in my breast,
Remonstrates I have done—
Of life I ought to shun—
As something, loudly, in my breast,
Remonstrates I have done—
Thou know'st that Thou hast forméd me
With passions wild and strong;
And list'ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.
With passions wild and strong;
And list'ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.
Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept aside,
Do Thou, All-good—for such Thou art—
In shades of darkness hide.
Or frailty stept aside,
Do Thou, All-good—for such Thou art—
In shades of darkness hide.
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Where with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,
But, Thou art good; and Goodness still
Delighteth to forgive.
No other plea I have,
But, Thou art good; and Goodness still
Delighteth to forgive.
| The Poetry of Robert Burns | |