[Written for the Sentinel]


Because, O God, Thy glory I would see,
I raise my daily prayer for purity;
That all the crude, unsightly sketches traced
Without Thy wise direction, be erased;
And on the ready tablet of my thought,
Only Thy faultless pattern may be wrought.
Make sweet and clean my judgment, till I see
Thy pure creation as 'tis seen of Thee;
And where a blemished mortal would be healed,
Let man of Thine own making be revealed.
Give me a purity too firm to cower
Beneath the grossest lie's pretended power;
Too strongly grounded to become a vane
For every gust of ill to whirl amain.
This purity in judgment, deed, desire,
Will bring the holy boon which I aspire,
And, o'er that blest communion keeping ward,
Stand like an angel with a flaming sword.

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