Sonnet VII Supreme Surrender
To all the spirits of Love that wander
Along his love-sown harvest-field of
My lady lies apparent; and the
Calls to the deep; and no man sees but I
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The Rebels Surrender To Grace Lord What Wilt Thou Have Me to Do
Lord, thou hast won, at length I yield,
My heart, by mighty grace compelled,
Surrenders all to thee;
Against thy terrors long I strove,
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