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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421205" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sixth Sunday After Trinity</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When bitter thoughts, of conscience born,<br> With sinners wake at morn,<br> When from our restless couch we start,<br> With fevered lips and withered heart,<br>Where is the spell to charm those mists away,<br>And make new morning in that darksome day?<br> One draught of spring's delicious air,<br> One steadfast thought, that GOD is there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> These are Thy wonders, hourly wrought,<br> Thou Lord of time and thought,<br> Lifting and lowering souls at will,<br> Crowding a world of good or ill<br>Into a moment's vision; e'en as light<br>Mounts o'er a cloudy ridge, and all is bright,<br> From west to east one thrilling ray<br> Turning a wintry world to May.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Would'st thou the pangs of guilt assuage?<br> Lo! here an open page,<br> Where heavenly mercy shines as free<br> Written in balm, sad heart, for thee.<br>Never so fast, in silent April shower,<br>Flushed into green the dry and leafless bower,<br> As Israel's crowned mourner felt<br> The dull hard stone within him melt.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The absolver saw the mighty grief,<br> And hastened with relief; -<br> &quot;The Lord forgives; thou shalt not die:&quot;<br> 'Twas gently spoke, yet heard on high,<br>And all the band of angels, used to sing<br>In heaven, accordant to his raptured string,<br> Who many a month had turned away<br> With veiled eyes, nor owned his lay,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Now spread their wings, and throng around<br> To the glad mournful sound,<br> And welcome, with bright open face,<br> The broken heart to love's embrace.<br>The rock is smitten, and to future years<br>Springs ever fresh the tide of holy tears<br> And holy music, whispering peace<br> Till time and sin together cease.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> There drink: and when ye are at rest,<br> With that free Spirit blest,<br> Who to the contrite can dispense,<br> The princely heart of innocence,<br>If ever, floating from faint earthly lyre,<br>Was wafted to your soul one high desire,<br> By all the trembling hope ye feel,<br> Think on the minstrel as ye kneel:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Think on the shame, that dreadful hour<br> When tears shall have no power,<br> Should his own lay th' accuser prove,<br> Cold while he kindled others' love:<br>And let your prayer for charity arise,<br>That his own heart may hear his melodies,<br> And a true voice to him may cry,<br> &quot;Thy GOD forgives--thou shalt not die.&quot;</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=421205" data-title="Sixth Sunday After Trinity de John Keble" data-description="When bitter thoughts, of conscience born,
 With sinners wake at morn,
 When from our restless couch we start,
 With fevered lips and withered heart,
Where is the spell to charm those mists away,
And make new morning in that darksome day?
 One drau..."></div>
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