England's Antiphon by George MacDonald
page 252 of 387 (65%)
page 252 of 387 (65%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
My feeble flesh may not abide
That dreadful stound; _hour._ I cannot brook Thy absence. My heart, with care and grief then gride, Doth fail, Doth quail; My life steals from me at that hidden wound. My fancy's then a burden to my mind; Mine anxious thought Betrays my reason, makes me blind; Near dangers drad _dreaded._ Make me distraught; Surprised with fear my senses all I find: In hell I dwell, Oppressed with horror, pain, and sorrow sad. My former resolutions all are fled-- Slipped over my tongue; My faith, my hope, and joy are dead. Assist my heart, Rather than my song, My God, my Saviour! When I'm ill-bested. Stand by, And I Shall bear with courage undeservéd smart. THE PHILOSOPHER'S DEVOTION. |
|