The last few days have been incredibly busy, so today's post will just be a Christina Rossetti poem. This one, reminiscent of John Donne's Holy Sonnet XIV, is perhaps my favourite of her poems so far.
"Cried Out With Tears"
Lord, I believe, help Thou mine unbelief:
Lord, I repent, help mine impenitence:
Hide not Thy Face from me, nor spurn me hence,
Nor utterly despite me in my grief;
Nor say me nay, who worship with the thief
Bemoaning my so long lost innocence: --
Ah me! my penitence a fresh offence,
Too tardy and too tepid and too brief.
Lord, must I perish, I who look to Thee?
Look Thou upon me, bid me live, not die;
Say "Come," say not "Depart," tho' Thou art just:
Yea, Lord, be mindful how out of the dust
I look to Thee while Thou dost look on me,
Thou Face to face with me and Eye to eye.