The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
 | I, II. |
 | III, IV. |
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| V. |
| VI, VII. |
| VIII, IX. |
| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
287
OH, TEACH ME TO LOVE THEE.
Oh, teach me to love Thee, to feel what thou art,
Till, fill'd with the one sacred image, my heart
Shall all other passions disown;
Like some pure temple, that shines apart,
Reserved for Thy worship alone.
Till, fill'd with the one sacred image, my heart
Shall all other passions disown;
Like some pure temple, that shines apart,
Reserved for Thy worship alone.
In joy and in sorrow, through praise and through blame,
Thus still let me, living and dying the same,
In Thy service bloom and decay—
Like some lone altar, whose votive flame
In holiness wasteth away.
Thus still let me, living and dying the same,
In Thy service bloom and decay—
Like some lone altar, whose votive flame
In holiness wasteth away.
Though born in this desert, and doom'd by my birth
To pain and affliction, to darkness and dearth,
On Thee let my spirit rely—
Like some rude dial, that, fix'd on earth,
Still looks for its light from the sky.
To pain and affliction, to darkness and dearth,
On Thee let my spirit rely—
Like some rude dial, that, fix'd on earth,
Still looks for its light from the sky.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |