140
SONNET.
The sun shone on me with a scorching heat,
I wished his radiance less—but then methought
How many bright and blessed things he brought,
Making the earth so beautiful and sweet.
I thought of all the sickly forms that greet
His warm beams with a smile—of the pale face
Those rays would light up with a rosy grace,
The thousand eyes that joy his power to meet.
I thought of every little springing flower,
Rising delighted from its dark abode,
And then my soul, in fervent praise to God,
Blest the fair sunshine, and the grateful hour.
Nor might one selfish feeling dim the bliss
Of knowing Him, who formed a world like this.
I wished his radiance less—but then methought
How many bright and blessed things he brought,
Making the earth so beautiful and sweet.
I thought of all the sickly forms that greet
His warm beams with a smile—of the pale face
Those rays would light up with a rosy grace,
The thousand eyes that joy his power to meet.
I thought of every little springing flower,
Rising delighted from its dark abode,
And then my soul, in fervent praise to God,
Blest the fair sunshine, and the grateful hour.
Nor might one selfish feeling dim the bliss
Of knowing Him, who formed a world like this.
