I shall burn frankincense for thee And on that shaft of fragrance rise My prayers of mediocrity. For nothing do I know, my eyes
To all thy wondrous gifts are blind And hardly can my spirit view Among the drifting clouds of mind Above, thy golden retinue.
Yet shall I pray to purify The wayward thought, the act impure, My soul to lift, my feet to try The sunlit path and sin abjure,
Renew my contract with the light And at thy feet would dwell tonight.
Poems Undated (1727)
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