Hope Holds to Christ
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. . . . . . .Hope holds to Christ the mind’s own mirror outTo take His lovely likeness more and more.It will not well, so she would bring aboutAn ever brighter burnish than beforeAnd turns to wash it from her welling eyesAnd breathes the blots off all with sighs on sighs.Her glass is blest but she as good as blindHolds till hand aches and wonders what is there;Her glass drinks light, she darkles down behind,All of her glorious gainings unaware.. . . . . . . .I told you that she turned her mirror dimBetweenwhiles, but she sees herself not Him.. . . . . . . .
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