Peevishness

O God! that I could be with Thee,
Alone by some sea shore,
And hear Thy soundless voice within,
And the outward waters roar.

The cold wet wind would seem to wash
The world from off my brow:
And I should feel amidst the storm
That none were near but Thou.

Each wave that broke upon the rocks
Would seem to break on me:
And he who stands an outward shock
Gains inward liberty.

Upon the wings of wild sea-birds,
My dark thoughts would I lay,
And let them bear them out to sea,
In the tempest far away.

For life has grown a simple weight;
Each effort seems a fall;
And all things weary me on earth,
But good things most of all.

And I am deadly sick of men,
From shame and not from pride;
My love of souls, my joy in saints,
Are blossoms that have died.

It seems as if I loathed the earth,
And yet craved not for Heaven,
But for another nature longed,
Not that which Thou hast given.

For goodness all ignoble seems,
Ungenerous and small,
And the holy are so wearisome,
Their very virtues pall.

Alas! this peevishness with good
Is want of love of God;
Unloving thoughts within distort
The look of things abroad.

The discord is within, which jars
So sadly in life's song:
Tis we, not they, who are in fault,
When others seem so wrong.

Tis we who weigh upon ourselves;
Self is the irksome weight:
To those who can see straight themselves,
All things look always straight.

My God! with what surpassing love
Thou lovest all on earth,
How good the least good is to Thee,
How much each soul is worth!

I seem to think if I could spend
One hour alone with Thee,
My human heart would come again
From Thy Divinity.

And yet I cannot build a cell
For Thee within my heart,
And meet Thee, as Thy chosen do,
Where Thou most truly art.

The bright examples round me seem
My dazzled eyes to hurt;
Thy beauty, which they should reflect,
They dwindle and invert.

Therefore I crave for scenes which might
My fettered thoughts unbind,
And where the elements might be
Like scapegoats to my mind,

Where all things round should loudly tell,
Storm, rocks, sea-birds, and sea,
Not of Thy worship, but much more,
And only, Lord! of Thee.