Discipline
Throw
away
thy
rod,
Throw
away
thy
wrath:
O
my
God,
Take
the
gentle
path.
For
my
heart's
desire
Unto
thine
is
bent:
I
aspire
To
a
full
consent.
Not
a
word
or
look
I
affect
to
own,
But
by
book,
And
thy
book
alone.
Though
I
fail,
I
weep:
Though
I
halt
in
pace,
Yet
I
creep
To
the
throne
of
grace.
Then
let
wrath
remove;
Love
will
do
the
deed:
For
with
love
Stonie
hearts
will
bleed.
Love
is
swift
of
foot;
Love's
a
man
of
warre,
And
can
shoot,
And
can
hit
from
farre.
Who
can
scape
his
bow?
That
which
wrought
on
thee,
Brought
thee
low,
Needs
must
work
on
me.
Throw
away
thy
rod;
Though
man
frailties
hath,
Thou
art
God:
Throw
away
thy
wrath.