Religious Poems, Part 2. / Part 6 From Volume II of The Works of John Greenleaf Whittier

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Spare me, dread angel of reproof, And let the sunshine weave to-day Its gold-threads in the warp and woof Of life so poor and gray.
Spare me awhile; the flesh is weak. These lingering feet, that fain would stray Among the flowers, shall some day seek The strait and narrow way.
Take off thy ever-watchful eye, The awe of thy rebuking frown; The dullest slave at times must sigh To fling his burdens down;
To drop his galley's straining oar, And press, in summer warmth and calm, The lap of some enchanted shore Of blossom and of balm.
Grudge not my life its hour of bloom, My heart its taste of long desire; This day be mine: be those to come As duty shall require.
The deep voice answered to my own, Smiting my selfish prayers away; To-morrow is with God alone, And man hath but to-day.
Say not, thy fond, vain heart within, The Father's arm shall still be wide, When from these pleasant ways of sin Thou turn'st at eventide.
'Cast thyself down,' the tempter saith, 'And angels shall thy feet upbear.' He bids thee make a lie of faith, And blasphemy of prayer.
Though God be good and free be heaven, No force divine can love compel; And, though the song of sins forgiven May sound through lowest hell,
The sweet persuasion of His voice Respects thy sanctity of will. He giveth day: thou hast thy choice To walk in darkness still;
As one who, turning from the light, Watches his own gray shadow fall, Doubting, upon his path of night, If there be day at all!