The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/Discipline
¶ Discipline.
Throw away thy rod,Throw away thy wrath:O my God,Take the gentle path.
For my hearts desireUnto thine is bent:I aspireTo a full consent.
Not a word or lookI affect to own,But by book,And thy book alone.
Though I fail, I weep:Though I halt in pace,Yet I creepTo the throne of grace.
Then let wrath remove;Love will do the deed:For with loveStonie hearts will bleed.
Love is swift of foot;Love's a man of warre,And can shoot,And can hit from farre.
Who can scape his bow?That which wrought on thee,Brought thee low,Needs must work on me.
Throw away thy rod;Though man frailties hath,Thou art God:Throw away thy wrath.