 | Sacra Poesis |  |
THE FLOWER.
O holy Truth, celestial birth,
I feel thee budding here within;
Wean me from the joys of earth,
And leave me not a slave to sin.
I feel thee budding here within;
Wean me from the joys of earth,
And leave me not a slave to sin.
Thou springest in the wilderness,
Thine odours wafting through the gloom;
Thy first young bud is happiness,
And heav'n's own bliss thy fullest bloom!
Thine odours wafting through the gloom;
Thy first young bud is happiness,
And heav'n's own bliss thy fullest bloom!
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Nurs'd in the genial soil of love,
And cherish'd by the beams of grace;
On holiness and things above
My kindliest affections place.
And cherish'd by the beams of grace;
On holiness and things above
My kindliest affections place.
Not that in man one kindly spark
Of pure affection glows within;
Towards God, his thoughts are drear and dark,
Towards man, the venom'd fruits of sin.
Of pure affection glows within;
Towards God, his thoughts are drear and dark,
Towards man, the venom'd fruits of sin.
It must be thou, my glorious God!
This bounteous grace must come from thee;
Lo, I approach thee through his blood
Who gave himself away for me!
This bounteous grace must come from thee;
Lo, I approach thee through his blood
Who gave himself away for me!
Then grant it, Lord, and hear my prayer,
To manifest thyself in love:
O take my heart, and fix it there,
From things below on things above.
To manifest thyself in love:
O take my heart, and fix it there,
From things below on things above.
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