Читать книгу English Poets of the Eighteenth Century - Various - Страница 55

Where'er my flattering passions rove,

I find a lurking snare;

'Tis dangerous to let loose our love

Beneath th' eternal fair.

Souls whom the tie of friendship binds,

And things that share our blood,

Seize a large portion of our minds,

And leave the less for God.

Nature has soft but powerful bands,

And reason she controls;

While children with their little hands

Hang closest to our souls.

Thoughtless they act th' old Serpent's part;

What tempting things they be!

Lord, how they twine about our heart,

And draw it off from Thee!

Our hasty wills rush blindly on

Where rising passion rolls,

And thus we make our fetters strong

To bind our slavish souls.

Dear Sovereign, break these fetters off.

And set our spirits free;

God in Himself is bliss enough;

For we have all in Thee.