It bade me kneel so oft, I’ll not retreat
From thee, nor fear before thy feet to fall.
And I shall say, ‘Receive this loving heart
Which err’d in sorrow only; and in sin
Took no delight; but being forced apart
From thee, without thee hoping thee to win,
Most prized what most thou madest as thou art
On earth, till heaven were open to enter in.’
67
Dreary was winter, wet with changeful sting