Page:Poems Truesdell.djvu/180

AWAKE, AWAKE, MY GENTLE MUSE.

Awake, awake, my gentle Muse!
 Awake, awake and sing;
The purest tributes of thy verse,
 I call on thee to bring.
I ask not gems, nor jewels rare,
 Not diamonds flashing bright:
A purer, holier gift be mine—
 The mind's calm, steadfast light.

Lord, I seek to have each thought
 Supremely stayed on Thee;
Surely Thou canst the gift impart,
 And make my spirit free—
Free from the vain alluring things,
 That bow the spirit down:
Strange! that such trifles please the sight,
 Heir of a glorious crown!