" They live in his still
echoing "Table-Talk," and are sprinkled generously over his
writings--while what record is there of the "good," the best financial
names of the day? One sonnet of Herbert was an especial favorite with
Coleridge. It was that heart-searching, sympathizing epitome of spiritual
life, entitled
SIN.
"Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round!
Parents first season us; then school-masters
Deliver us to laws; they send us bound
To rules of reason, holy messengers.
"Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin,
Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes,
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in,
Bibles laid open, millions of surprises.
"Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness.
The sound of Glory ringing in our ears:
Without, our shame; within, our consciences:
Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears.
"Yet all these fences and their whole array,
One cunning bosom-sin blows quite away."
These poems, it should be remembered, are private devotional
heart-confessions, not written for sale, for pay or reputation; they were
not printed at all during the author's life, but were brought forth by
faithful friends from the sacred coffer of his dying-room, in order that
posterity might know the secret of that honorable life and its cheerful
end.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96