Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/473

Rh Let me guide him nearer Thee. Make my mortal dreams come true With the work I fain would do; Clothe with life the weak intent, Let me be the thing I meant; Let me find in Thy employ Peace that dearer is than joy; Out of self to love be led And to heaven acclimated, Until all things sweet and good Seem my natural habitude.

So we read the prayer of him
 * Who, with John of Labadie,

Trod, of old, the oozy rim
 * Of the Zuyder Zee.

Thus did Andrew Rykman pray.
 * Are we wiser, better grown,

That we may not, in our day,
 * Make his prayer our own?

me, dread angel of reproof,
 * And let the sunshine weave to-day

Its gold-threads in the warp and woof
 * Of life so poor and gray.

Spare me awhile; the flesh is weak.
 * These lingering feet, that fain would stray

Among the flowers, shall some day seek
 * The strait and narrow way.

Take off thy ever-watchful eye,
 * The awe of thy rebuking frown;

The dullest slave at times must sigh
 * To fling his burdens down;

To drop his galley’s straining oar,
 * And press, in summer warmth and calm,

The lap of some enchanted shore
 * Of blossom and of balm.

Grudge not my life its hour of bloom,
 * My heart its taste of long desire;

This day be mine: be those to come
 * As duty shall require.

The deep voice answered to my own,
 * Smiting my selfish prayers away;

“To-morrow is with God alone,
 * And man hath but to-day.

“Say not, thy fond, vain heart within,
 * The Father’s arm shall still be wide,

When from these pleasant ways of sin
 * Thou turn’st at eventide.

“ ‘Cast thyself down,’ the tempter saith,
 * ‘And angels shall thy feet upbear.’

He bids thee make a lie of faith,
 * And blasphemy of prayer.

“Though God be good and free be heaven,
 * No force divine can love compel;

And, though the song of sins forgiven
 * May sound through lowest hell,

“The sweet persuasion of His voice
 * Respects thy sanctity of will.

He giveth day: thou hast thy choice
 * To walk in darkness still;

“As one who, turning from the light,
 * Watches his own gray shadow fall,

Doubting, upon his path of night,
 * If there be day at all!

“No word of doom may shut thee out,
 * No wind of wrath may downward whirl,

No swords of fire keep watch about
 * The open gates of pearl;

“A tenderer light than moon or sun,
 * Than song of earth a sweeter hymn,

May shine and sound forever on,
 * And thou be deaf and dim.

“Forever round the Mercy-seat
 * The guiding lights of Love shall burn;

But what if, habit-bound, thy feet
 * Shall lack the will to turn?

“What if thine eye refuse to see,
 * Thine ear of Heaven’s free welcome fail,

And thou a willing captive be,
 * Thyself thy own dark jail?

“Oh, doom beyond the saddest guess,
 * As the long years of God unroll,

To make thy dreary selfishness
 * The prison of a soul!