Written For My Son, In A Bible Which Was Presented To Him.
Welcome, thou sacred, solemn Guest,
Who com'st to guide me to the Blest.
O Fountain of eternal Truth,
Thou gracious Guardian of my Youth!
True Wisdom to my Soul dispense,
That I may learn thy Will from hence:
Still let me make thy Word my Rule,
And still despise the scorning Fool.
Inspir'd from thence, my Verse shall soar,
Till Time itself shall be no more.
Alas, my Soul! and whar is great,
In Glory of a mortal Date?
Henceforth this vain Ambition spare,
And be Eternity thy Care.
poem by Mary Barber
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Onward
Have the blasts of sorrow worn thee,
Have the rocks of danger torn thee,
And thus shifted, wreck-like drifted,
Wouldst thou find a port in time?
Vain the quest! That word sublime—
God’s great one word,
Silent never, pealeth ever,
Onward!
Hast thou done all loving duty,
Hast thou clothed thy soul with beauty,
And wouldst rest then, wholly blest then,
In some sunny lapse of time?
Vain the hope! The word sublime—
God’s great one word,
Silent never, pealeth ever,
Onward!
Hast thou won the heart of glory,
Hast thou charmed the tongue of story,
And wouldst pause then for applause then,
Underneath the stars of time?
Vain the lure! That word sublime—
God’s great one word,
Silent never, pealeth ever,
Onward!
Truth and virtue hast thou wrought for,
Faith and freedom hast thou fought for,
And then shrinkest for thou thinkest
Paid is all thy debt in time?
Vain the thought! That word sublime—
God’s great one word,
Silent never, pealeth ever,
Onward!
From endeavour to endeavour,
Journeying with hours for ever,
Or aspiring, or acquiring
This, O man, is life in time,
Urged by that primal word sublime—
God’s great one word,
Silent never, pealeth ever,
Onward!
poem by Charles Harpur
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The Parting Soul And Her Guardian Angel
(Written during sickness).
Soul—
Oh! say must I leave this world of light
With its sparkling streams and sunshine bright,
Its budding flowers, its glorious sky?
Vain ’tis to ask me—I cannot die!
Angel—
But, sister, list! in the realms above,
That happy home of eternal love,
Are flowers more fair, and skies more clear
Than those thou dost cling to so fondly here.
Soul—
Ah! yes, but to reach that home of light
I must pass through the fearful vale of night;
And my soul with alarm doth shuddering cry—
O angel, I tell thee, I dare not die!
Angel—
Ah! mortal beloved, in that path untried
Will I be, as ever, still at thy side,
Through gloom to guide till, death’s shadows passed,
Thou nearest, unharmed, God’s throne at last.
Soul—
Alas! too many close ties of love
Around my wavering heart are wove!
Fond, tender voices, press me to stay—
Think’st thou from them I would pass away?
Daily my mother, with anguish wild,
Bends o’er the couch of her dying child,
And one, nearer still, with silent tears,
Betrays his anguish, his gloomy fears—
Yes, even now, while to thee I speak,
Are hot drops falling upon my cheek;
Think you I’d break from so close a tie?
No, my guardian angel, I cannot die!
Angel—
Poor child of earth! how closely clings
Thy heart to earth and to earthly things!
Wilt thou still revolt if I whisper low
That thy Father in Heaven wills it so—
Wills that with Him thou should’st henceforth dwell,
To pray for those whom thou lovest so well,
Till a time shall come when you’ll meet again,
To forget for ever life’s grief and pain?
Soul—
Spirit, thy words have a potent power
O’er my sinking heart in this awful hour,
And thy soft-breathed hopes, with magic might.
Have chased from my soul the shades of night.
Console the dear ones I part from now,
Who hang o’er my couch with pallid brow,
Tell them we’ll meet in yon shining sky—
And, Saviour tender, now let me die!
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Sonnet: God, our Lord
O God, Thou art my Heavenly Father,
Who loves me infinitely: my Savior!
My Friend and Guide, my Guardian and Teacher;
My Caretaker and my supreme Master.
O God, my Lord, Thou art my Confessor
Who can forgive my sins, my Redeemer;
The Light, the Truth, the Way, my Protector,
My Mentor and my soul’s Director.
In the Book of life, Thou art its Editor;
I’m a passenger, Thou art the Driver;
I am a Debtor, Thou art my Creditor;
Thou art the priceless Pearl! I am the diver.
Thou art my ship’s Captain, Navigator!
I’m Thy subject, Thou art the Emperor!
poem by John Celes
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A Hymn To Christ At The Author's Last Going Into Germany
In what torn ship soever I embark,
That ship shall be my emblem of thy Ark;
What sea soever swallow me, that flood
Shall be to me an emblem of thy blood;
Though thou with clouds of anger do disguise
Thy face, yet through that mask I know those eyes,
Which, though they turn away sometimes,
They never will despise.
I sacrifice this Island unto thee,
And all whom I loved there, and who loved me;
When I have put our seas 'twixt them and me,
Put thou thy sea betwixt my sins and thee.
As the tree's sap doth seek the root below
In winter, in my winter now I go,
Where none but thee, th' Eternal root
Of true Love, I may know.
Nor thou nor thy religion dost control
The amorousness of an harmonious Soul,
But thou wouldst have that love thyself: as thou
Art jealous, Lord, so I am jealous now,
Thou lov'st not, till from loving more, Thou free
My soul: who ever gives, takes liberty:
O, if thou car'st not whom I love
Alas, thou lov'st not me.
Seal then this bill of my Divorce to All,
On whom those fainter beams of love did fall;
Marry those loves, which in youth scattered be
On Fame, Wit, Hopes (false mistresses) to thee.
Churches are best for Prayer, that have least light:
To see God only, I go out of sight:
And to 'scape stormy days, I choose
An Everlasting night.
poem by John Donne
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O Lord My God! - -Carl Boberg
O Lord my God!
When I in awesome wonder
consider all the worlds
Thy hands have made
I see the stars,
I hear the rolling thunder,
The power throughout the universe displayed
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
When through the woods and forest glades I wander
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
And hear the brook and feel the geltle breeze;
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
And when I think that God, His Son not sparing,
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in; -
That on the cross my burden gladly bearing,
He bled to take away my sin; -
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
Then I shall bow in humble adoration
And there proclaim, My God, How great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee;
How great Thou art, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
poem by Sangnam Nam
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Psalm 19
The books of nature and of Scripture compared.
THE heav'ns declare thy glory, Lord,
In every star thy wisdom shines
But when our eyes behold thy word,
We read thy name in fairer lines.
The rolling sun, the changing light,
And nights and days, thy power confess
But the blest volume thou hast writ
Reveals thy justice and thy grace.
Sun, moon, and stars convey thy praise
Round the whole earth, and never stand:
So when thy truth begun its race,
It touched and glanced on every land.
Nor shall thy spreading gospel rest
Till through the world thy truth has run,
Till Christ has all the nations blest
That see the light or feel the sun.
Great Sun of Righteousness, arise,
Bless the dark world with heav'nly light;
Thy gospel makes the simple wise,
Thy laws are pure, thy judgments right.
Thy noblest wonders here we view
In souls renewed and sins forgiv'n;
Lord, cleanse my sins, my soul renew,
And make thy word my guide to heaven.
poem by Isaac Watts
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A Legacy
No living atom comes at last to naught!
Active in each is still the eternal Thought:
Hold fast to Being if thou wouldst be blest.
Being is without end; for changeless laws
Bind that from which the All its glory draws
Of living treasures endlessly possessed.
Unto the wise of old this truth was known,
Such wisdom knit their noble souls in one;
Then hold thou still the lore of ancient days!
To that high power thou ow'st it, son of man,
By whose decree the earth its circuit ran
And all the planets went their various ways.
Then inward turn at once thy searching eyes;
Thence shalt thou see the central truth arise
From which no lofty soul goes e'er astray;
There shalt thou miss no needful guiding sign-
For conscience lives, and still its light divine
Shall be the sun of all thy moral day.
Next shalt thou trust thy senses' evidence,
And fear from them no treacherous offence
While the mind's watchful eye thy road commands:
With lively pleasure contemplate the scene
And roam securely, teachable, serene,
At will throughout a world of fruitful lands.
Enjoy in moderation all life gives:
Where it rejoices in each thing that lives
Let reason be thy guide and make thee see.
Then shall the distant past be present still,
The future, ere it comes, thy vision fill-
Each single moment touch eternity.
Then at the last shalt thou achieve thy quest,
And in one final, firm conviction rest:
What bears for thee true fruit alone is true.
Prove all things, watch the movement of the world
As down the various ways its tribes are whirled;
Take thou thy stand among the chosen few.
Thus hath it been of old; in solitude
The artist shaped what thing to him seemed good,
The wise man hearkened to his own soul's voice.
Thus also shalt thou find thy greatest bliss;
To lead where the elect shall follow-this
And this alone is worth a hero's choice.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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An Echoing Truth
In a world of right and wrong, we have Truth, that echoes strong,
And from the world’s ancient past, God’s Truth shall forever last,
To be for men a guide and light, for discerning wrong from right;
God’s Guiding Truth for every need, when souls choose to heed.
God’s Word echoes loud and clear, as men of true wisdom fear,
God who reigns above the earth, who gives The Word true worth,
God, Who spoke this world in place, opens hearts by His Grace,
And with that Grace He will impart, Eternal Truth into man’s heart.
A Book, that many seldom read, has the Truth that all men need,
While others never even heard, the Eternal Truths in God’s Word;
Eternal Truths that man can trust, which were written for all of us,
Truth revealed to all the world, which all believers need to herald.
This truth’s more than knowledge of, The One who reigns above,
But what He had did for everyone, sending Christ, His Only Son,
His Truth, revealed to every nation, leads a soul to His Salvation,
When they come to Jesus Christ, that soul, receives Eternal Life.
Open The Word and you will see, Truth about our present reality,
And you will see through history, others pointing men to eternity,
How Godly men of old would tell, others about Heaven and Hell,
Knowing all are just one breath, away from Eternal Life or Death.
(Copyright ©06/2010)
Occasion'd By Reading The Memoirs Of Anne Of Austria
Ye heedless Fair, who pass the live--long Day,
In Dress and Scandal, Gallantry and Play;
Who thro' new Scenes of Pleasure hourly run,
Whilst Life's important Business is undone;
Look here, when guilty Conquests make you vain,
And see, how sad Remorse shuts up the Scene.
If future Bliss, or Misery, must flow
From what the Heart delights in here below,
Think how these Habits, rooted in the Breast,
Will fit you for a Commerce with the Blest.
Ye Politicians, who, in Courts to shine,
Study the Maxims of the Florentine;
Who, void of Virtue, anxious to be great,
Would rise, tho' on the Ruins of the State;
See how delusive are Ambition's Dreams,
See Providence defeating all your Schemes:
The Hand divine the well--laid Plot prevents,
And dashes all with unforeseen Events.
Yet the short--sighted Atheist dares advance,
These wondrous Changes are the Work of Chance.
Not so this pious, penetrating Dame,
Who to the sacred Fountain trac'd the Stream:
Like lovely Hertford, who her Hours employs,
To form her Mind for never--fading Joys.
Excelling Fair! whom All so justly prize;
Who, in a Court, find Leisure to be wise;
Humane and humble, pious and sincere;
Who walk, untainted, thro' infectious Air;
Thou Honour to thy Sex! may I pursue
The Paths of Wisdom, early trod by you!
I, who am destin'd to a low Estate,
Free from the Vanities that vex the Great;
Blest with a Happiness to Courts unknown;
For I, thank Heav'n, may call my Hours my own:
O may I pass those Hours in such a Way,
As may prepare me for the last, great Day!
That I may, unappall'd, lift up my Head,
When the Arch--Angel calls--Arise, ye Dead.
When all the haughty, pompous Sons of Dust,
Who here in fleeting Treasures plac'd their Trust;
Who here, to their Confusion largely quaff'd
Prosperity's intoxicating Draught;
Till drunk with Blessings, they despis'd their God,
Arraign'd his Wifdom, and defy'd his Rod;
Too late shall find, that Arm they durst oppose,
Can pour eternal Vengeance on his Foes.
Reflect, my Soul, that Day is drawing near;
And timely think, what was thy Business here.
O Thou, whose Arm, reach'd down from Heav'n to save,
So lately snatch'd me from the op'ning Grave;
Who bow'd thine Ear, nor let me sue in vain,
Reliev'd my Sickness, and remov'd my Pain;
In hallow'd Strains, O, teach my Soul to soar,
To celebrate the Mercies I adore!
To Thee alone to dedicate my Lays,
Who heard my Vows, and added to my Days!
Watch o'er my Heart, fix ev'ry Duty there,
And make Eternity my only Care.
poem by Mary Barber
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How Great Thou Art
O Lord my God
When I in awesome wonder
Consider all the worlds
They hands have made
I see the stars
I hear the rollin' thunder
Thy power throughout
The universe displayed.
Then sings my soul
My Savior God, to Thee,
How great Thou art
How great Thou art
Then sings my soul
My Savior God, to Thee
How great Thou art
How great Thou art!
When Christ shall come
With shouts of acclamation
And take me home
What joy shall fill my heart
Then I shall bow
In humble adoration
And there proclaim,
''My God, how great Thou art!''
Then sings my soul
My Savior God, to Thee,
How great Thou art
How great Thou art
Then sings my soul
My Savior God, to Thee
How great Thou art
How great Thou art!
How great Thou art
How great Thou art!...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be Thou My Vision
Be thou my vision, oh lord of my heart
Nought be all else to me, save that thy art
Thou my best thought in the day and the night
Waking or sleeping, thou presence my light
Be thou my wisdom, be thou my true word
I ever with thee and thou with me lord
Thou my great father and I thy true son
Thou in me dwelling and I with thee one
Be thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight
Be thou my armour and be thou my might
Thou my soul shelter, and thy my high tower
Raise thou me heavenwards, oh power of my power
Riches I need not, nor mans empty praise
Thou mine inheritance through all of my days
Thou and thou only though first in my heart
High king of heaven my treasure thou art
Oh high king of heaven, when battle is done
Grant heavens joy to me, bright heaven sun
Christ of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, though ruler of all
Da, da, da, da, da, etc.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Transition
Awake my soul!
Thou shalt not creep and crawl—
An earth-bound creature, pitiful and small,
Whose weak ambition knows no higher goal!
O wistful soul,
When morning sings,
Forgetful of the night,
Bathe all thy restless being in the light;
Till 'neath the mesh that close about thee clings
Thou feel thy wings!
Then find life's door,—
Trusting the instinct true
That points to Heaven and the aerial blue
A wingèd thing, impelled for evermore
To soar and soar!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Olney Hymn 19: Contentment
Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea,
But calm, content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to Thee.
In vain by reason and by rule
We try to bend the will;
For none but in the Saviour's school
Can learn the heavenly skill.
Since at His feet my soul has sate,
His gracious words to hear,
Contented with my present state,
I cast on Him my care.
'Art thou a sinner, soul?' He said,
'Then how canst thou complain?
How light thy troubles here, if weigh'd
With everlasting pain!
'If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured,
Compare thy griefs with mine!
Think what my love for thee endured,
And thou wilt not repine.
''Tis I appoint thy daily lot,
And I do all things well;
Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot,
And rise with me to dwell.
'In life my grace shall strength supply,
Proportion'd to thy day;
At death thou still shalt find me nigh,
To wipe thy tears away.'
Thus I, who once my wretched days
In vain repinings spent,
Taught in my Saviour's school of grace,
Have learnt to be content.
poem by William Cowper
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The Loadstone
Eternal God! O Thou that only art
The sacred fountain of eternal light,
And blessed loadstone of my better part,
O Thou my heart's desire, my soul's delight!
Reflect upon my soul, and touch my heart;
And then my heart shall prize no good above Thee,
And then my soul shall know Thee; knowing, love Thee;
And then my trembling thoughts shall never start
From thy commands, or swerve the least degree,
Or once presume to move, but as they move in Thee.
poem by Francis Quarles
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Psalms
I
I seem to be
Sundered from Thee,
Thou Harmony of all creation.
Am I disowned
For talents loaned
And useless hid in vain probation?
Now powerless,
In weariness,
Now in despair a beggar humble
For help, for cheer,
A voice, an ear,
To hear and guide, while on I stumble.
God, let me be.
Of use to Thee!
If vain my purpose and my powers,
Then sinks from sight
My star,-and night
Henceforth my steps enfolding lowers.
Then break and bind
My ravaged mind
The terrors dread of doubt and anguish.
I know the pack,
I drove them back;-
Only to-day does courage languish.
Oh, come now, peace!
Come faith's increase,
That life's strong chain shall ever bind me!
That not in vain
I strive and strain
Myself to seek until I find me!
II
Honor the springtide life ever adorning,
That all things has made!
Things smallest have some resurrectional morning,
The forms alone fade.
Life begets life,
Potencies higher surprise.
Kind begets kind,
Heedless of time as it flies.
Worlds pass away and arise.
Nothing so small but there's something still smaller,
No one can see.
Nothing so great but there's something still greater
Beyond it can be.
Worms in the earth-
Mountains to make they essay.
Dust without worth,
Sands with which sea-billows play,-
Founders of kingdoms were they.
Infinite all, where the smallest and greatest
Oneness unfold.
No one has seen what was first,-and the latest
None shall behold.
Laws underlie,
Order the all they maintain.
Need and supply
Bring one another; our bane
Boots to the general gain.
Eternity's offspring and germ are we all now.
Thoughts have their true
Roots in our race's first morning; they fall now,
Query and clue,
Freighted with seed
Into eternity's soil;
Joy be your meed,
That your brief life's fleeting toil
Fruit for eternity bears.
Join in the joy of all life, every being,
Brief bloom of its spring!
Honor th' eternal, our human lot freeing
From fetters that cling!
Adding your mite,
With the eternal unite!
Though you decay,
Breathe as a moment you may,
Air of eternity's day!
III
CHORUS
Who art
Thou
, whom a thousand names trace
Through all times that are gone and each tongue?
Thou wert infinite yearning's embrace,
Thou wert hope when the yoke heavy hung,
Thou wert darkening death-terror's guest,
Thou wert sun that with life-gladness blessed.
Still Thine image we changefully fashion,
And each form we would call revelation;
Each man holds his for true with deep passion,-
Till it crumbles in poignant negation.
SOLO
Who Thou art, none can tell.
But I know Thou dost dwell
As the limitless search in my soul-it is Thou!-
After justice and light,
After victory's right
For the new that's revealed, it is Thou, it is Thou!
Every law that we see
Or believe there may be,
Though we never can knowledge attain, it is Thou!-
As my armor and aid
Round my life they are laid,
And with joy I avow, it is Thou, it is Thou!
CHORUS
Since we never Thine essence can know,
We have thought mediators of Thee;-
But the ages their impotence show,
We stand still, while no way we can see.
If in sickness for succor we thirst,
Is there balm in the dreams that have burst?
Stars of hope and of longing eternal,
That we saw o'er life's sorrows arisen,
Shall they sink in death's terrors nocturnal,
Only turn into worms in our prison?
SOLO
He that liveth in me,
Needeth no one to be
Mediator; I own Him indeed: it is Thou!
Is eternal hope prized
As from Him; is baptized
By His spirit my own,-is it Thou, is it Thou -:
Shall not I, who am dust,
His eternity trust?
I take humbly my law; for I know, it is Thou!
Was I worth Thy word: Live!
Let Thy life power give,
When Thou wilt, as Thou wilt,-it is Thou, it is Thou!
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Contentment
(Phillipians, iv.11)
Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea,
But calm, content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to Thee.
In vain by reason and by rule
We try to bend the will;
For none but in the Saviour's school
Can learn the heavenly skill.
Since at His feet my soul has sate,
His gracious words to hear,
Contented with my present state,
I cast on Him my care.
"Art thou a sinner, soul?" He said,
"Then how canst thou complain?
How light thy troubles here, if weigh'd
With everlasting pain!
"If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured,
Compare thy griefs with mine!
Think what my love for thee endured,
And thou wilt not repine.
"'Tis I appoint thy daily lot,
And I do all things well;
Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot,
And rise with me to dwell.
"In life my grace shall strength supply,
Proportion'd to thy day;
At death thou still shalt find me nigh,
To wipe thy tears away."
Thus I, who once my wretched days
In vain repinings spent,
Taught in my Saviour's school of grace,
Have learnt to be content.
poem by William Cowper
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Upon A Venerable Rival
Full thirty frosts since thou wert young
Have chilled the withered grove,
Thou wretch! and hast thou lived so long,
Nor yet forgot to love?
Ye sages! spite of your pretences
To wisdom, you must own
Your folly frequently commences
When you acknowledge none.
Not that I deem it weak to love,
Or folly to admire;
But ah! the pangs we lovers prove
Far other years require.
Unheeded on the youthful brow
The beams of Phoebus play;
But unsupported age stoops low
Beneath the sultry ray.
For once, then, if untutored youth,
Youth unapproved by years,
May chance to deviate into truth,
When your experience errs;
For once attempt not to despise
What I esteem a rule:
Who early loves, though young, is wise,--
Who old, though gray, a fool.
poem by William Cowper
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O Thou Dread Power
O Thou dread Power, who reign'st above,
I know thou wilt me hear,
When for this scene of peace and love
I make this prayer sincere.
The hoary Sire - the mortal stroke,
Long, long be pleas'd to spare;
To bless his little filial flock,
And show what good men are.
She, who her lovely offspring eyes
With tender hopes and fears,
O bless her with a mother's joys,
But spare a mother's tears!
Their hope, their stay, their darling youth,
In manhood's dawning blush,
Bless him, Thou God of love and truth,
Up to a parent's wish.
The seauteous, seraph sister-band -
With earnest tears I pray -
Thou know'st the snares on ev'ry hand,
Guide Thou their steps alway.
When, soon or late, they reach that coast,
O'er Life's rough ocean driven,
May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost,
A family in Heaven
poem by Robert Burns
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Laodicea
Hear what the Lord, the great Amen,
The true and faithful Witness says!
He formed the vast creation's plan,
And searches all our hearts and ways.
To some he speaks as once of old,
I know thee, thy profession's vain;
Since thou art neither hot nor cold,
I'll spit thee from me with disdain.
Thou boasteth, I am wise and rich,
Increased in goods and nothing need;
And dost not know thou art a wretch,
Naked and poor, and blind and dead.
Yet while I thus rebuke, I love,
My message is in mercy sent;
That thou may'st my compassion prove,
I can forgive, if thou repent.
Wouldst thou be truly rich and wise?
Come, buy my gold in fire well tried,
My ointment to anoint thine eyes,
My robe, thy nakedness to hide.
See at thy door I stand and knock!
Poor sinner, shall I wait in vain?
Quickly thy stubborn heart unlock,
That I may enter with my train.
Thou canst not entertain a king,
Unworthy thou of such a guest!
But I my own provisions bring,
To make thy soul a heavenly feast.
poem by John Newton
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Sonnet IV: Virtue, Alas
Virtue, alas, now let me take some rest.
Thou set'st a bate between my soul and wit.
If vain love have my simple soul oppress'd,
Leave what thou likest not, deal not thou with it.
The scepter use in some old Cato's breast;
Churches or schools are for thy seat more fit.
I do confess, pardon a fault confess'd,
My mouth too tender is for thy hard bit.
But if that needs thou wilt usurping be,
The little reason that is left in me,
And still th'effect of thy persuasions prove:
I swear, my heart such one shall show to thee
That shrines in flesh so true a deity,
That Virtue, thou thyself shalt be in love.
poem by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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