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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355267" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To Charles Lloyd</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355267" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A stranger, and alone, I past those scenes<br>We past so late together; and my heart<br>Felt something like desertion, when I look'd<br>Around me, and the well-known voice of friend<br>Was absent, and the cordial look was there<br>No more to smile on me. I thought on Lloyd;<br>All he had been to me. And now I go<br>Again to mingle with a world impure,<br>With men who make a mock of holy things,<br>Mistaken, and of man's best hope think scorn.<br>The world does much to warp the heart of man,<br>And I may sometimes join its ideot laugh.<br>Of this I now complain not. Deal with me,<br>Omniscient Father! as thou judgest best,<br>And in thy season tender thou my heart.<br>I pray not for myself; I pray for him,<br>Whose soul is sore perplex'd: shine thou on him,<br>Father of Lights! and in the difficult paths<br>Make plain his way before him. His own thoughts<br>May he not think, his own ends not pursue;<br>So shall he best perform thy will on earth.<br>Greatest and Best, thy will be ever ours! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355267" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">August 1797</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Charles+Lamb">Charles Lamb</a></strong></div>