Happy
those early days, when I
Shined
in my Angel-infancy! Before
I understood this place Appointed
for my second race, Or
taught my soul to fancy aught But
a white, celestial thought; When
yet I had not walk’d above A
mile or two from my first Love, And
looking back, at that short space Could
see a glimpse of His bright face; When
on some gilded cloud or flower My
gazing soul would dwell an hour, And
in those weaker glories spy Some
shadows of eternity; Before
I taught my tongue to wound My
conscience with a sinful sound, Or
had the black art to dispense A
several sin to every sense, But
felt through all this fleshly dress Bright
shoots of everlastingness. O
how I long to travel back, And
tread again that ancient track! That
I might once more reach that plain, Where
first I left my glorious train; From
shady City of Palm trees! But
ah! my soul with too much stay Is
drunk, and staggers in the way:— Some
men a forward motion love, But
I by backward steps would move; And
when this dust falls to the urn, In that state I came, return. |
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