Jane's Poetry Book

In its true light this transient life regard,
A state of trial only, not reward;
Though rough the passage, peaceful is the port
The bliss is perfect, the probation short.
Of human wit, beware the fatal pride,
A useful follower, but a dangerous guide.
On holy faith's aspiring pinions rise
Ascent your birthright, and xx the skies.

Fountain of being, teach us to devote
To thee each purpose, action, word, and thought;
Thy grace our hope, thy love our only boast,
Be all distinctions in the Christian lost;
Be thy in every state, our wish alone,
Almight, wise, and good, thy will be done.

View in Jane's Manuscript Book

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All Henry Livingston's Poetry,     All Clement Moore's Poetry     Historical Articles About Authorship

Illustrated 1823 Night Before Christmas

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