My God (oh, let me call Thee mine,
Weak, wretched sinner though I be),
My trembling soul would fain be Thine;
My feeble faith still clings to Thee.
Not only for the Past I grieve,
The Future fills me with dismay;
Unless Thou hasten to relieve,
Thy suppliant is a castaway.
I cannot say my faith is strong,
I dare not hope my love is great;
But strength and love to Thee belong;
Oh, do not leave me desolate!
I know I owe my all to Thee;
Oh, TAKE the heart I cannot give!
Do Thou my strength--my Saviour be,
And MAKE me to Thy glory live.
alone with horses
you see in what fear
people live
mad at the dead
at Monday
even at my drink
I do not give much belief to the news
writ so simply
made of nothing
who expects every hour
to be troubled with fear
or hope
now is not in a day or two
I look after it
my little lock
my mind full of fears
were it not for our mouth
I would be glad to be rid of it
an abundance of salt
for my ordinary table
ugly talk fear and tittle tattle
is all the news now
flee fight flee flee
flee flee flee flee
FIGHT flee fight flee
flee flee flee fight
fight fight fight flee
fight flee fight
last night the white
kiss of winter
an owl in two or three places
two or three idle people
and you bigger than fear
like a bonfire in the street
the debts I shed eat
one little bit of me
they come for an account
of my general fear
and I a broke bard
change it into more useful letters
the night is a garden
in her perfect fear of us
who rave that everything must break
while government continues
what will become of doing business
with so busy a rust
fear finds me out
and brings me a bear
or the desire for order
it burdens my mind that it should be so backward
so unseeing
so nappish
yet I am nothing else
but that now-frozen weather
a survey
is asking nothing
I answer nothing for fear
of it being me
last night brought back
in the mouth of my fear
we are not rid of our trouble
our whole hate business
where a lie is true
it is so much rope