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VIII.
O leave thyself to God, and if indeed
'Tis given thee to perform so vast a task,
Think not at all, think not, but kneel and ask!
O friend, by thought was never creature freed
From any sin, from any mortal need:
Be patient! not by thought canst thou devise
What course of life for thee is right and wise;
It will be written up, and thou Wilt read.
Oft like a sudden pencil of rich light,
Piercing the thickest umbrage of the wood,
Will shoot, amidst our troubles infinite,
The Spirit's voice; oft, like the balmy flood
Of morn, surprise the universal night
With glory, and make all things sweet and good!
