 | The Prisoner of Love |  |
317
October 3 UNWORTHY
“Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”—
St. Luke v. 8.
Not even the little touch of trust;
I only ask to gaze—
From this so distant strife and dust
Where care eats into souls like rust,
Through its distorting haze—
Upon the Reflex, not to look
At Light I cannot live and brook,
In dumb and deep amaze.
I am not worthy to draw near,
And kiss His garment hem;
My sins did point the cruel spear,
My thorns His diadem.
I only ask to gaze—
From this so distant strife and dust
Where care eats into souls like rust,
Through its distorting haze—
Upon the Reflex, not to look
At Light I cannot live and brook,
In dumb and deep amaze.
I am not worthy to draw near,
And kiss His garment hem;
My sins did point the cruel spear,
My thorns His diadem.
Not even a little word of hope,
From Him who cannot lie;
But at the bottom of the slope,
Whereby great doors of promise ope
With many a tender tie,
I only seek to watch and wait
Within my round of penance strait
Until for Him I die.
I am not worthy once to catch
His precious Voice from far,
Or lift His sacred wicket latch
And loose my prison bar.
From Him who cannot lie;
But at the bottom of the slope,
Whereby great doors of promise ope
With many a tender tie,
I only seek to watch and wait
Within my round of penance strait
Until for Him I die.
I am not worthy once to catch
His precious Voice from far,
Or lift His sacred wicket latch
And loose my prison bar.
| The Prisoner of Love | |