To me, who must be saved because I cling Give me the keys. I feel for the common with my mind chord again, Sliding by semitones, till I sink to the And not partake, effect and not receive! A spark disturbs our clod; Nearer we hold of God Who gives, than of His tribes that take, I must believe. Then, welcome each rebuff 30 90 That turns earth's smoothness rough, Let us not always say 'Spite of this flesh to-day - The Master work, and catch Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool's true play. As it was better, youth 110 Should strive, through acts uncouth, Toward making, than repose on aught found made; So, better, age, exempt I strove, made head, gained ground upon the From strife, should know, than tempt Further. Thou waitedst age; wait death |