 | The walk with God |  |
143
TO PHILOSOPHY
I have served thee like a slave,
Took whate'er thy right hand gave.
With thy holy robes of state
I my meanness did not mate,
Counterfeiting wise and great.
Took whate'er thy right hand gave.
With thy holy robes of state
I my meanness did not mate,
Counterfeiting wise and great.
But I might remove the dust
Gathered, and the mournful rust,
Where, unmarked of careless eye,
Thy neglected glories lie.
Gathered, and the mournful rust,
Where, unmarked of careless eye,
Thy neglected glories lie.
Once I saw a serving-maid
Dead, in goodly garb arrayed.
From her earnings she had saved
Gold, and these last splendors craved.
Dead, in goodly garb arrayed.
From her earnings she had saved
Gold, and these last splendors craved.
So when I am dead and gone,
Robe thou me, O holy one!
Let thy sacred livery
O'er my marble features lie;
Service in thy noble house
Fill my record, pay my vows.
Robe thou me, O holy one!
Let thy sacred livery
O'er my marble features lie;
Service in thy noble house
Fill my record, pay my vows.
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