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164 With the traitor within me that whispers of rest, Where the river flows swift, and the river flows deep ; Where the nightshade hangs purple, with gold at its breast, And the wild bees, awaking, would hum me to sleep : Only this to withhold me — no sparrow can fall But the angels are sorry, God knoweth it all. With the thorns that seemed flowers pressed into my feet, With the herbs that are bitter, for wholesomest food ; While my lips shut in longing for poisonous sweet, For the berries of scarlet that round me are strewed ; With the parching of thirst and impatient desire : Only this to restrain me — "Still saved as by fire." Can I kill half my nature, and leave half alive ? Keeping down all emotion, it burns me away. Through the night I may toil, and in darkness may strive, But another must herald the dawning of day. I have spent all my strength, and my journey is done : Holy Father, receive me, through Jesus Thy Son.