 | The poems of Robert Traill Spence Lowell |  |
101
A COMMUNING WITH GOD
BEFORE ENTERING INTO HOLY ORDERS.
What hands will now be laid upon me, Lord?
Whose spirit breathed, whose blessed influence given?
By whom shall I be sent to bear The Word—
That precious load—along the path to Heaven?
Whose spirit breathed, whose blessed influence given?
By whom shall I be sent to bear The Word—
That precious load—along the path to Heaven?
Almighty God! Eternal God! 'T is Thou,
That in Thy chosen servant here dost stand:
Prostrate before Thy footstool, lo, I bow,
To seek the dread commission at Thy hand.
That in Thy chosen servant here dost stand:
Prostrate before Thy footstool, lo, I bow,
To seek the dread commission at Thy hand.
O God, the Father! from whose quickening breath
All beings move, each in his proper round,
Whose arm sustains, above the abyss of Death,
What else would sink within that dread profound,
All beings move, each in his proper round,
Whose arm sustains, above the abyss of Death,
What else would sink within that dread profound,
102
Give me, Great Parent, that enkindling power
To wake anew, deep in my brother's soul,
The Godlike nature, that, in man's first hour,
Made the dim part reflect the perfect whole.
To wake anew, deep in my brother's soul,
The Godlike nature, that, in man's first hour,
Made the dim part reflect the perfect whole.
O God, the Son! who, with unbounded grace,
Tookést up manhood, healedst the gaping wound,
And barést to the Father's dwelling-place
The dying saved, the long-lost wanderer found,
Tookést up manhood, healedst the gaping wound,
And barést to the Father's dwelling-place
The dying saved, the long-lost wanderer found,
Give unto me that ready neighbor-love,
That guideth where the wounded heart to find;
And give me Thy blest unction from above,
With holy balm the bleeding soul to bind.
That guideth where the wounded heart to find;
And give me Thy blest unction from above,
With holy balm the bleeding soul to bind.
O God, the Holy Ghost! that hallowest all
Thy faithful people, and to every truth
Upwards their still advancing steps dost call,
Till weary Age rests, smiling back on youth,
Thy faithful people, and to every truth
Upwards their still advancing steps dost call,
Till weary Age rests, smiling back on youth,
Hallow my life, that I may ever be
Worthy to stand at my King's festal board;
And teach me truth, that, being taught by Thee,
I may show others where all good is stored.
Worthy to stand at my King's festal board;
And teach me truth, that, being taught by Thee,
I may show others where all good is stored.
103
One only God! whose works and ways are one,
Grant me with single heart to do Thy will,
Make me wrong thoughts and words and ways to shun,
In Thy one, mystic realm my place to fill.
Grant me with single heart to do Thy will,
Make me wrong thoughts and words and ways to shun,
In Thy one, mystic realm my place to fill.
Keith Hall, Bermudas,
November 29, 1842, at night.
| The poems of Robert Traill Spence Lowell | |