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 15. A Thanksgiving

   "Thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me."  LORD, in this dust Thy sovereign voice  First quicken'd love divine; I am all Thine, Thy care and choice,  My very praise is Thine.  I praise Thee, while Thy providence  In childhood frail I trace, For blessings given, ere dawning sense  Could seek or scan Thy grace;  Blessings in boyhood's marvelling hour,  Bright dreams, and fancyings strange; Blessings, when reason's awful power  Gave thought a bolder range;  Blessings of friends, which to my door  Unask'd, unhoped, have come; And, choicer still, a countless store  Of eager smiles at home.  Yet, Lord, in memory's fondest place  I shrine those seasons sad, When, looking up, I saw Thy face  In kind austereness clad.  I would not miss one sigh or tear,  Heart-pang, or throbbing brow; Sweet was the chastisement severe,  And sweet its memory now.  Yes! let the fragrant scars abide,  Love-tokens in Thy stead, Faint shadows of the spear-pierced side  And thorn-encompass'd head.  And such Thy tender force be still,  When self would swerve or stray, Shaping to truth the froward will  Along Thy narrow way.  Deny me wealth; far, far remove  The lure of power or name; Hope thrives in straits, in weakness love,  And faith in this world's shame.  Oxford .  October 20, 1829.