 | Poems |  |
218
THE LESSON.
I said, This task is keen—But even while I spake, Thou, Love Divine,
Didst stand behind, and gently over-lean
My drooping form, and, oh! what task had been
Too stern for feebleness with help of Thine?
Spell Thou this lesson with me line by line,
The sense is rigid, but the voice is dear;
Guide Thou my hand within that hand of Thine—
Thy wounded hand!—until its tremblings take
Strength from Thy touch, and even for Thy sake
Trace out each character in outline clear.
| Poems | |