A rich man was my father
Never short of a nicker.
But I resolved that I'd be rather
A saintly, rural vicar.
Forever on my round
I looked after the poor
I brought them bread, their wounds I bound
I even swept the floor.
And though it wasn't nice
To work and pray all night
Through reckless, gruelling sacrifice
My book and hymns I'd write.
My parish rounds and prayer
My reputation make stronger
But if I'd taken some more care
I might have lasted longer.
A servant to the King,
Whose life my life has bought
But spending my life in caring,
I made my life quite short.
I am the priest devout
Who worked myself to death.
Rather than burn down, I burned out
Noble to my last breath.
(Inspired by Justin Lewis-Anthony)
Ah! I've never inspired a hymn before! (Three sonnets, a cantata and a jeremiad, but never a hymn!)
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