Shall those who live for self alone, Whose years float on in daily crime-- Shall they by faith for guilt atone, And live beyond the bounds of Time? Father! no prophet's laws I seek,-- _Thy_ laws in Nature's works appear;-- I own myself corrupt and weak, Yet will I pray, for thou wilt hear! Thou, who canst guide the wandering star Through trackless realms of aether's space; Who calm'st the elemental war, Whose hand from pole to pole I trace: Thou, who in wisdom placed me here, Who, when thou wilt, canst take me hence, Ah! while I tread this earthly sphere, Extend to me thy wide defence. To Thee, my God, to thee I call! Whatever weal or woe betide, By thy command I rise or fall, In thy protection I confide. If, when this dust to dust's restored, My soul shall float on airy wing, How shall thy glorious name adored Inspire her feeble voice to sing! But, if this fleeting spirit share With clay the grave's eternal bed, While life yet throbs I raise my prayer, Though doom'd no more to quit the dead. To Thee I breathe my humble strain, Grateful for all thy mercies past, And hope, my God, to thee again This erring life may fly at last. _December 29, 1806._ [First published, 1830.] As much may be said of another poem which he likewise wrote in his youth; when, very dangerously ill, and believing his last end to be near, he turned all his thoughts to the other world, and conceived the touching poem which ended in the lines:-- "Forget this world, my restless sprite; Turn, turn thy thoughts to Heaven; There must thou soon direct thy flight If errors are forgiven." But if Lord Byron did not adopt Locke's philosophy he at least paid the greatest tribute of regard to his goodness by following ever more closely his best precept, which is to the effect that to love truth for the sake of truth is an essential part of human perfection in this world, and the fertile soil on which is sown the seed of every virtue.