John Keble

Here you will find the Poem Sixth Sunday After Trinity of poet John Keble

Sixth Sunday After Trinity

When bitter thoughts, of conscience born,
 With sinners wake at morn,
 When from our restless couch we start,
 With fevered lips and withered heart,
Where is the spell to charm those mists away,
And make new morning in that darksome day?
 One draught of spring's delicious air,
 One steadfast thought, that GOD is there.

 These are Thy wonders, hourly wrought,
 Thou Lord of time and thought,
 Lifting and lowering souls at will,
 Crowding a world of good or ill
Into a moment's vision; e'en as light
Mounts o'er a cloudy ridge, and all is bright,
 From west to east one thrilling ray
 Turning a wintry world to May.

 Would'st thou the pangs of guilt assuage?
 Lo! here an open page,
 Where heavenly mercy shines as free
 Written in balm, sad heart, for thee.
Never so fast, in silent April shower,
Flushed into green the dry and leafless bower,
 As Israel's crowned mourner felt
 The dull hard stone within him melt.

 The absolver saw the mighty grief,
 And hastened with relief; -
 "The Lord forgives; thou shalt not die:"
 'Twas gently spoke, yet heard on high,
And all the band of angels, used to sing
In heaven, accordant to his raptured string,
 Who many a month had turned away
 With veiled eyes, nor owned his lay,

 Now spread their wings, and throng around
 To the glad mournful sound,
 And welcome, with bright open face,
 The broken heart to love's embrace.
The rock is smitten, and to future years
Springs ever fresh the tide of holy tears
 And holy music, whispering peace
 Till time and sin together cease.

 There drink: and when ye are at rest,
 With that free Spirit blest,
 Who to the contrite can dispense,
 The princely heart of innocence,
If ever, floating from faint earthly lyre,
Was wafted to your soul one high desire,
 By all the trembling hope ye feel,
 Think on the minstrel as ye kneel:

 Think on the shame, that dreadful hour
 When tears shall have no power,
 Should his own lay th' accuser prove,
 Cold while he kindled others' love:
And let your prayer for charity arise,
That his own heart may hear his melodies,
 And a true voice to him may cry,
 "Thy GOD forgives--thou shalt not die."