Poems (Hornblower)/Sonnet (How oft beneath His blest and healing wings)
For works with similar titles, see Sonnet.
SONNET.
How oft beneath His blest and healing wings
He would have gathered me, and I would not;
Like a weak bird, all heedless of my lot,
Perverse and idle in my wanderings.
Now my soul would return; and trembling brings
Her wearied pinion to its wonted rest;
And faint with its short flight and flutterings,
Would seek a refuge in its parent breast.
O Father! in thy mercy shelter me,
For I am worn with mortal miseries;
My dark and earth-entangled spirit free,
And plume it to ascend its native skies;
With loosened wing to thy high rest to soar,
And never to desert its mansion more!
He would have gathered me, and I would not;
Like a weak bird, all heedless of my lot,
Perverse and idle in my wanderings.
Now my soul would return; and trembling brings
Her wearied pinion to its wonted rest;
And faint with its short flight and flutterings,
Would seek a refuge in its parent breast.
O Father! in thy mercy shelter me,
For I am worn with mortal miseries;
My dark and earth-entangled spirit free,
And plume it to ascend its native skies;
With loosened wing to thy high rest to soar,
And never to desert its mansion more!