Under Especial Blessing

Lord Christ, Lord Christ, ah for a little space Turn hence. Some day, when I again am low In the new dust of whatsoever blow Time hath in license, from Thy perfect place Oh let the awful solace of thy face Sun me, but not now! Lord, Thou seest me! How Can I, o'erborne by what Thy hands bestow, Bear what Thine eyes? Now, therefore, of Thy grace I ask but that if ever, as of yore, Thou lookest up and sigh'st, my kneeling thought May kiss Thy skirt, and Thou, who know'st if aught Touch Thee, mayst know, and through Thee, what no more Is I, but, ne'ertheless, began in me, May rise to Him Whom no man hath seen, nor can see.