414. L. M. Keble. |Not that thou wouldst take them out of the world, but keep them from its evil.|
1 Sweet is the bliss of souls serene,
When they have sworn and steadfast mean,
Counting the cost, in all t' espy
Their God, in all themselves deny.
2 O could we learn that sacrifice,
What lights would all around us rise!
How would our hearts with wisdom talk,
Along life's dullest, dreariest walk!
3 We need not bid, for cloistered cell,
Our neighbor and our work farewell,
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high
For sinful man beneath the sky:
4 The trivial round, the common task,
Would furnish all we ought to ask;
Room to deny ourselves; a road
To bring us, daily, nearer God.