I found this poem recently and thought I would share it with everyone today. It was written by the George Croly, a minister in the Anglican church in the 19th Cenutry:
Spirit of God, descend upon my heart,
Wean it from earth, through all its pulses move;
Stoop to my weakness, mighty as Thou art,
And make me love Thee as I ought to love.
I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies,
No sudden rending of the veil of clay,
No angel visitant, no opening skies:
But take the dimness of my soul above.
Hast Thou not bid us love Thee, God and King?
All, all Thine own, soul, heart and strength and mind!
I see Thy cross, there teach my heart to cling:
O let me seek Thee, and O let me find!
Teach me to feel that Thou art always nigh;
Teach me the struggles of the soul to bear,
To check the rising doubt, the rebel sigh;
Teach me the patience of unanswered prayer.
Teach me to love Thee as Thine angels love,
One holy passion filling all my frame;
The baptism of the heaven descended Dove;
My heart an altar, and Thy love the flame.
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