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The Trust

Robert Service

Because I've eighty years and odd,
       And darkling is my day,
I now prepare to meet my God,
       And for forgiveness pray.
Not for salvation is my plea,
       Nor Heaven hope,--just rest:
Begging: "Dear Father, pardon me,
       I did not do my best.
"I did not measure with the Just
       To serve my fellow men;
But unto levity and lust
       I loaned my precious pen.
I sorrow for the sacred touch,
       And though I toiled with zest,
Dear God, have mercy, in-as-much
       I did not do my best.

"I bless You for the gift you gave
       That brought me golden joy;
Yet here beside the gentle grave
       I grieve for its employ.
Have pity, Lord,--so well I know
       I failed you in the test,
And my last thought is one of woe:
       I did not do my best."

Added: 25 Mar 2002 | Last Read: 18 Dec 2018 6:06 PM | Viewed: 4428 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/4214/ | Viewed on 18 December 2018.
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