 | The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware |  |
317
LINES
Written March 29, 1836.
It is not what my hands have done,
That weighs my spirit down,
That casts a shadow o'er the sun,
And over earth a frown;
It is not any heinous guilt,
Or vice by men abhorred;
For fair the fame that I have built,
A fair life's just reward;
And men would wonder if they knew
How sad I feel with sins so few.
That weighs my spirit down,
That casts a shadow o'er the sun,
And over earth a frown;
It is not any heinous guilt,
Or vice by men abhorred;
For fair the fame that I have built,
A fair life's just reward;
And men would wonder if they knew
How sad I feel with sins so few.
Alas! they only see in part,
When thus they judge the whole;
They cannot look upon the heart,
They cannot read the soul;
But I survey myself within,
And mournfully I feel
How deep the principle of sin
Its root may there conceal,
And spread its poison through the frame
Without a deed that men can blame.
When thus they judge the whole;
They cannot look upon the heart,
They cannot read the soul;
But I survey myself within,
And mournfully I feel
How deep the principle of sin
Its root may there conceal,
And spread its poison through the frame
Without a deed that men can blame.
They judge by actions which they see
Brought out before the sun;
But conscience brings reproach to me
For what I've left undone,—
For opportunities of good
In folly thrown away,
For hours misspent in solitude,
Forgetfulness to pray,—
And thousand more omitted things,
Whose memory fills my breast with stings.
Brought out before the sun;
318
For what I've left undone,—
For opportunities of good
In folly thrown away,
For hours misspent in solitude,
Forgetfulness to pray,—
And thousand more omitted things,
Whose memory fills my breast with stings.
And therefore is my heart oppressed
With thoughtfulness and gloom;
Nor can I hope for perfect rest,
Till I escape this doom.
Help me, thou Merciful and Just,
This fearful doom to fly;
Thou art my strength, my hope, my trust;—
O, help me, lest I die!
And let my full obedience prove
The perfect power of faith and love.
With thoughtfulness and gloom;
Nor can I hope for perfect rest,
Till I escape this doom.
Help me, thou Merciful and Just,
This fearful doom to fly;
Thou art my strength, my hope, my trust;—
O, help me, lest I die!
And let my full obedience prove
The perfect power of faith and love.
| The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware | |