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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
Christ in the Garden
By John Keble (1792–1866)
 
From ‘The Christian Year’

O LORD my God, do thou thy holy will—
            I will lie still;
I will not stir, lest I forsake thine arm,
            And break the charm
Which lulls me, clinging to my Father’s breast        5
            In perfect rest.
 
Wild Fancy, peace! thou must not me beguile
            With thy false smile;
I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways;
            Be silent, Praise,        10
Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all
            That hear thy call.
*        *        *        *        *
Mortal! if life smile on thee, and thou find
            All to thy mind,
Think who did once from heaven to hell descend,        15
            Thee to befriend:
So shalt thou dare forego, at His dear call,
            Thy best, thine all.
 
“O Father! not my will, but thine, be done,—”
            So spake the Son.        20
Be this our charm, mellowing earth’s ruder noise
            Of griefs and joys:
That we may cling forever to Thy breast
            In perfect rest!
 
 
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