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THE UNBELIEVING WORLD. 173
I feel no wish to do great things,
Nor is my weakness fortified; Only, within are murmurings,
Beginning softly to subside.
But in that momentary sleep
One work within me hath been done;
For somehow I have sunk more deep, Farther unto my soul have gone.
Thy touch hath made me sensitive;
I long to burrow out of sight; My shame, selfseen, ahhors to live,
Humbled by such excess of light.
There have been times when sense of sin
Hath laid my spirits very low; Yet this sharp light went deeper in;
I never yet was humbled so.
THE UNBELIEVING WORLD.
O Lord! when I look o'er the wide-spreading world, Flow lovely and yet how unhappy it seems,
How full of realities, pure and divine, Yet how bent on unworshipful dreams!