|
|
Matins, Or Morning Prayer
By Robert Herrick
When with the virgin morning thou dost rise,
Crossing thyself come thus to sacrifice;
First wash thy heart in innocence; then bring
Pure hands, pure habits, pure, pure every thing.
Next to the altar humbly kneel, and thence
Give up thy soul in clouds of frankincense.
Thy golden censers fill'd with odours sweet
Shall make thy actions with their ends to meet.
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 628 times.
|
|
