The Poetical Works of John and Charles Wesley 241The Aspiration
Open in the readerHow long, great God, how long must I
Immured in this dark prison lie?
Where through the avenues of sense
My soul has dim intelligence;
Where but faint gleams salute my sight,
Like moonshine in a cloudy night.
When shall I leave this dusky sphere,
And be all mind, all eye, all ear?
How cold this clime! And yet my sense
Perceives even here Thy influence.
Even here the magnet's power I feel,
And tremble like the attracted steel.
And though to beauties less divine
Sometimes my erring heart decline,
Yet soon (so strong the sympathy)
It turns, and points again to Thee.
I long to see this Excellence,
Which at such distance strikes my sense.
My soul struggles to disengage
Her wings from this her earthy cage:
Wouldst thou, great Love, once set her free,
How would she haste to unite with Thee!
She'd for no angel's conduct stay,
But fly, and love on all the way.