| Samuel Waddington, comp. The Sonnets of Europe. 1888. | | | | ’Tis Not Thy Terrors, Lord | | By Santa Teresa de Ávila (1515–1582) |
| | Translated by Sir John Bowring
’TIS not thy terrors, Lord, thy dreadful frown, | |
| That keep my step in duty’s narrow path; | |
| ’Tis not the awful threatenings of Thy wrath,— | |
| But that in virtue’s sacred smile alone | |
| I find or peace or happiness. Thy light, | 5 |
| In all its prodigality, is shed | |
| Upon the worthy and the unworthy head; | |
| And Thou dost wrap in misery’s stormy night | |
| The holy as the thankless. All is well; | |
| Thy wisdom has to each his portion given; | 10 |
| Why should our hearts by selfishness be riven? | |
| ’Tis vain to murmur,—daring to rebel: | |
| Lord, I would fear thee, though I feared not hell; | |
| And love thee, though I had no hope of heaven. | | | | |
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