 | Voices from the Lakes, and Other Poems |  |
130
SONNET. RESIGNATION.
I ask, O Father, in this hour of woe,Not to escape the anguish and the pain,
The breaking heart, the aching wearied brain,
The wasting grief,—not this I ask, —Oh, no!
I only pray that Thou wilt mould me so
As Thou wouldst have me—fashion me again;
Yea, keep me in the furnace till each stain
Be burnt away, and till within my heart
My Saviour sees His own fair counterpart.
I pray that I may meekly kiss the rod
That cuts into the flesh with bitter smart;
And bow me humbly at Thy feet, O God!
Yea, bow till I can say with Thine own Son,
“Not mine, O Father, but Thy will be done!”
| Voices from the Lakes, and Other Poems | |