Here all my better faculties confine,
And be this hour of sacred silence thine.
If, by the day’s illusive scenes misled,
My erring soul from virtue’s path has stray’d;
Snar’d by example, or by passion warm’d,
Some false delight my giddy sense has charm’d;
My calmer thoughts the wretched choice reprove,
And my best hopes are centred in thy love.
Depriv’d of this, can life one joy afford?
Its utmost boast a vain unmeaning word.