My God, how gracious art thou! I had slipt <br />Almost to hell, <br />And on the verge of that dark, dreadful pit <br />Did hear them yell, <br />But O thy love! thy rich, almighty love <br />That sav'd my soul, <br />And checkt their fury, when I saw them move, <br />And heard them howl; <br />O my sole comfort, take no more these ways, <br />This hideous path, <br />And I will mend my own without delays, <br />Cease thou thy wrath! <br />I have deserv'd a thick, Egyptian damp, <br />Dark as my deeds, <br />Should mist within me, and put out that lamp <br />Thy spirit feeds; <br />A darting conscience full of stabs and fears; <br />No shade but Yew, <br />Sullen, and sad eclipses, cloudy spheres, <br />These are my due. <br />But he that with his blood, (a price too dear,) <br />My scores did pay, <br />Bid me, by virtue from him, challenge here <br />The brightest day; <br />Sweet, downy thoughts; soft lily-shades; calm streams; <br />Joys full and true; <br />Fresh, spicy mornings; and eternal beams <br />These are his due.<br /><br />Henry Vaughan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-relapse/
