Mastery

    I would not have a god come in To shield me suddenly from sin, And set my house of life to rights； Nor angels with bright burning wings Ordering my earthly thoughts and things； Rather my own frail¹ guttering² lights Wind blown and nearly beaten out； Rather the terror of the nights And long, sick groping after doubt； Rather be lost than let my soul Slip vaguely³ from my own control —— Of my own spirit let me be In sole though feeble mastery.