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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421156" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Eight Sunday After Trinity</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Prophet of God, arise and take<br>With thee the words of wrath divine,<br> The scourge of Heaven, to shake<br> O'er yon apostate shrine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where Angels down the lucid stair<br>Came hovering to our sainted sires<br> Now, in the twilight, glare<br> The heathen's wizard fires.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Go, with thy voice the altar rend,<br>Scatter the ashes, be the arm,<br> That idols would befriend,<br> Shrunk at thy withering charm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then turn thee, for thy time is short,<br>But trace not o'er the former way,<br> Lest idol pleasures court<br> Thy heedless soul astray.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou know'st how hard to hurry by,<br>Where on the lonely woodland road<br> Beneath the moonlight sky<br> The festal warblings flowed;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where maidens to the Queen of Heaven<br>Wove the gay dance round oak or palm,<br> Or breathed their vows at even<br> In hymns as soft as balm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or thee, perchance, a darker spell<br>Enthralls: the smooth stones of the flood,<br> By mountain grot or fell,<br> Pollute with infant's blood;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The giant altar on the rock,<br>The cavern whence the timbrel's call<br> Affrights the wandering flock:-<br> Thou long'st to search them all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Trust not the dangerous path again -<br>O forward step and lingering will!<br> O loved and warned in vain!<br> And wilt thou perish still?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thy message given, thine home in sight,<br>To the forbidden feast return?<br> Yield to the false delight<br> Thy better soul could spurn?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas, my brother! round thy tomb<br>In sorrow kneeling, and in fear,<br> We read the Pastor's doom<br> Who speaks and will not hear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The grey-haired saint may fail at last,<br>The surest guide a wanderer prove;<br> Death only binds us fast<br> To the bright shore of love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Keble">John Keble</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421156" data-title="Eight Sunday After Trinity de John Keble" data-description="Prophet of God, arise and take
With thee the words of wrath divine,
 The scourge of Heaven, to shake
 O'er yon apostate shrine.

Where Angels down the lucid stair
Came hovering to our sainted sires
 Now, in the twilight, glare
 The heathen's wizar..."></div>
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