William Cowper

Lord, who hast suffer'd all for me,
My peace and pardon to procure,
The lighter cross I bear for Thee,
Help me with patience to endure

Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong;
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,
To which the said spectacles ought to belong

When the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with an indignant mien, Counsel of her country's gods, Sage beneath a spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief; Every burning word he spoke Full of rage, and full of grief
...

There is a fountain fill'd with blood,
Drawn from Emmanuel's veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains

"Me too, perchance, in future days,
The sculptured stone shall show,
With Paphian myrtle or with
Parnassian on my brow

The swallows in their torpid state Compose their useless wing,
And bees in hives as idly wait The call of early spring
The keenest frost that binds the stream, The wildest wind that blows,
Are neither felt nor fear'd by them, Secure...

My God, till I received Thy stroke,
How like a beast was I
So unaccustom'd to the yoke,
So backward to comply