Poetry Archives

Long in the lap of childhood didst thou sleep,
Think how thy youth like chaff did disappear;
Shall life’s sweet Spring forever last?  Look up,
Old age approaches ominously near.
Oh shake thou off the world, even as the bird
Shakes off the midnight dew that clogged his wings.
Soar upward, seek redemption from thy guilt
And from the earthly dross that round thee clings.
Draw near to God, His holy angels know,
For whom His bounteous streams of mercy flow.