Classic Poem

Let me forget the world—all, all, but Thee;
Let my whole soul arise as smoke from fire
In praise of Thee; let only one desire
Fill my whole heart—that through eternity,
Forever and forever, I may be
As incense ever rising to the Sire,
The Son, and Spirit; may I never tire
Of praising thus the glorious Trinity!

Poor soul, poor soul, such earthliness hast thou!
The world's thyself, thou canst not flee from it;
Thy prayers are selfish when thou prayest best,
Thy love is little, and thy warmest vow
As charred wood moistened, the fire free from it;
Thou lackest much, but Christ will give the rest.