At Dawn of Day
A T dawn of day
I kneel, and clasp my hands, and strive to pray:
But all in vain, dear Love, I bend the knee, —
I can but think of thee!
The Chapel bell
Wakes the loud chaunt and organ's rolling swell:
Yet while my lips in cold responses move, —
My heart burns with thy love!
At still midnight,
Once more the soul attempts her heavenward flight:
But God hath fled, nor hears the empty prayer, —
For thou alone art there!
Help me, dear Love!
And when from God my wandering thoughts will rove,
And fondly cling and cluster all round thee, —
Pray thou, with tears, for me!
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