Pardon me, God, once more I Thee entreat,
That I have placed Thee in so mean a seat
Where round about Thou seest but all things vain,
Uncircumcis’d, unseason’d and profane.
But as Heaven’s public and immortal eye
Looks on the filth, but is not soil’d thereby,
So Thou, my God, may’st on this impure look,
But take no tincture from my sinful book:
Let but one beam of glory on it shine,
And that will make me and my work divine.
Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.