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Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.

By John Henry Newman (1801–1890)


LORD, in this dust Thy sovereign voice
  First quickened love divine;
I am all Thine,—Thy care and choice,
  My very praise is Thine.
I praise Thee, while Thy providence        5
  In childhood frail I trace,
For blessings given ere dawning sense
  Could seek or scan Thy grace;
Blessings in boyhood’s marvelling hour,
  Bright dreams, and fancyings strange;        10
Blessings, when reason’s awful power
  Gave thought a bolder range;
Blessings of friends, which to my door
  Unasked, unhoped, have come;
And, choicer still, a countless store        15
  Of eager smiles at home.
Yet, Lord, in memory’s fondest place
  I shrine those seasons sad,
When looking up I saw Thy face,
  In kind austereness clad.        20
I would not miss one sigh or tear,
  Heart-pang, or throbbing brow;
Sweet was the chastisement severe,
  And sweet its memory now.
Yes, let the fragrant scars abide,        25
  Love-tokens in Thy stead,
Faint shadows of the spear-pierced side,
  And thorn-encompassed head.
And such Thy tender force be still
  When self would swerve or stray;        30
Shaping to Truth the froward will,
  Along Thy narrow way.
Deny me wealth; far, far remove
  The lure of power or name;
Hope thrives in straits, in weakness Love,        35
  And Faith in this world’s shame.