Poems (Truesdell)/Awake, awake, my gentle Muse

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AWAKE, AWAKE, MY GENTLE MUSE.
Awake, awake, my gentle Muse!  Awake, awake and sing; The purest tributes of thy verse,  I call on thee to bring. I ask not gems, nor jewels rare,  Not diamonds flashing bright: A purer, holier gift be mine— The mind's calm, steadfast light.
Lord, I seek to have each thought  Supremely stayed on Thee; Surely Thou canst the gift impart,  And make my spirit free—Free from the vain alluring things,  That bow the spirit down: Strange! that such trifles please the sight,  Heir of a glorious crown!
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