Chapter XXX

O thou of purer eyes than to behold
Uncleanness! sift my soul, removing all
Strange thoughts, imaginings fantastical,
Iniquitous allurements manifold.
Make it into a spiritual ark; abode
Severely sacred, perfumed, sanctified,
Wherein the Prince of Purities may abide--
The holy and eternal Spirit of God.
The gross, adhesive loathsomeness of sin,
Give me to see. Yet, O far more, far more.
That beautiful purity which the saints adore
In a consummate Paradise within
The Veil,--O Lord, upon my soul bestow,
An earnest of that purity here below.

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Footnote:

[1] This is a saying of Socrates.

Transcriber’s Notes

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected.

Footnotes have been moved to the end of the text.