| The Divine Privilege |
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Lord, where are Thy prerogatives?
Why, men have more than Thou hast kept;
The king rewards, remits, forgives,
The poet to a throne has stept.
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And Thou, despoiled, hast given away
Worship to men, success to strife,
Thy glory to the heavenly day,
And made Thy sun the lord of life.
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Is one too precious to impart,
One property reserved to Christ,
One, cherished, grappled to that heart?
—To be alone the Sacrificed?
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O Thou who lovest to redeem!—
One whom I know lies sore oppressed.
Thou wilt not suffer me to dream
That I can bargain for her rest.
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Seven hours I swiftly sleep, while she
Measures the leagues of dark, awake.
O that my dewy eyes might be
Parched by a vigil for her sake!
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But O rejected! O in vain!
I cannot give who would not keep.
I cannot buy, I cannot gain,
I cannot give her half my sleep.
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