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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421239" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Thursday Before Easter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;O holy mountain of my God, <br>&quot;How do thy towers in ruin lie, <br>&quot;How art thou riven and strewn abroad, <br>&quot;Under the rude and wasteful sky!&quot; <br>‘Twas thus upon his fasting-day <br>The &quot;Man of Loves&quot; was fain to pray, <br>His lattice open toward the western breeze, <br>Mourning the home that still his yearning fancy sees. <br>Oh for a love like Daniel’s now, <br>To wing to Heaven but one strong prayer <br>For GOD’S new Israel, sunk as low, <br>Yet flourishing to sight as fair, <br>As Sion in her height of pride, <br>With queens for handmaids at her side, <br>With kings her nursing-fathers, throned high, <br>And compass’d with the world’s too tempting blazonry. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘Tis true, nor winter stays thy growth, <br>Nor torrid summer’s sickly smile; <br>The flashing billows of the south <br>Break not upon so lone an isle, <br>But thou, rich vine, art grafted there, <br>The fruit of death or life to bear, <br>Yielding a surer witness every day, <br>To thine Almighty Author and his stedfast way. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh grief to think, that grapes of gall <br>Should cluster round thine healthiest shoot <br>God’s herald prove a heartless thrall, <br>Who, if he dar’d, would fain be mute! <br>Even such is this bad world we see, <br>Which, self-condemn’d in owning Thee, <br>Yet dares not open farewell of Thee take, <br>For very pride, and her high-boasted Reason’s sake. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What do we the? if far and wide <br>Men kneel to CHRIST, the pure and meek, <br>Yet rage with passion, swell with pride, <br>Have we not sill our faith to seek? <br>Nay—but in stedfast humbleness <br>Kneel on to Him, who loves to bless <br>The prayer that waits for Him; and trembling strive <br>To keep the lingering flame in thine own breast alive </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dark frown’d the future even on him, <br>The loving and beloved Seer, <br>What time he saw, through shadows dim, <br>The boundary of th’ eternal year; <br>He only of the sons of men <br>Nam’d to be heir of glory then. <br>Else had it bruis’d too sore his tender heart <br>To see GOD’S ransom’d world in wrath and flame depart. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then look no more: or closer watch <br>Thy course in Earth’s bewildering ways, <br>For every glimpse thine eye can catch <br>Of what shall be in those dread days: <br>So when th’Archangel’s word is spoken, <br>And Death’s deep trance for ever broken, <br>In mercy thou may’st feel the heavenly hand, <br>And in thy lot unharm’d before thy Saviour stand.</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=421239" data-title="Thursday Before Easter de John Keble" data-description="&quot;O holy mountain of my God, 
&quot;How do thy towers in ruin lie, 
&quot;How art thou riven and strewn abroad, 
&quot;Under the rude and wasteful sky!&quot; 
‘Twas thus upon his fasting-day 
The &quot;Man of Loves&quot; was fain to pray, 
H..."></div>
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