The Sigh

Ah ! with what freedom could I once have pray'd,
And drench'd in tears my supplications made,
Wing'd 'em with sighs, to send 'em how I strove
By wind or water to my God above;
But now of late methinks I feel
Myself transforming into steel.
Nothing that's hard but doth impart
Its stubborn hardness to my heart.

Ah! with what ardour could I once have heard,
How hath this heart of mine been sweetly stirr'd,
Quick'ned and rais'd to such a lively frame
That I have wondered how and whence it came!
But now alas those days are done,
There is more life in stocks or stone;
Nothing more indispos'd can be,
Ah! lead itself is light to me.

Ah! when the beams of light on me did shine
How did I gaze on heav'n and think it mine.
Then could I spurn at earth as at a toy,
No such poor limits then could bound my Joy
But ah! how are those white hours fled,
That earth I spurn'd now fills my head,
And I that aim'd than stars more high
Now grov'ling in a dust-heap lie.

Ah me! my God, if a deep sigh or groan
May find thy gracious ear or reach thy throne,
Oh thence dispatch a word, speak till I hear:
Hence-forth be this your posture; AS YOU WERE .
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