From the wheel and the drift of Things Deliver us, Good Lord, And we will face the wrath of Kings, The faggot and the sword! Lay not thy Works before our eyes Nor vex us with thy Wars, Lest we should feel the straining skies O'ertrod by trampling stars. Hold us secure behind the gates Of saving flesh and bone, Lest we should dream what Dream awaits The Soul escaped alone. Thy Path, thy Purposes conceal From our beleaguered realm Lest any shattering whisper steal Upon us and o'erwhelm. A veil 'twixt us and Thee, Good Lord, A veil 'twixt us and Thee, Lest we should hear too clear, too clear, And unto madness see!