When with the virgin morning thou dost rise,
Crossing thyself come thus to sacrifice;
First wash thy heart in innocence; then bring
Pure hands, pure habits, pure, pure every thing.
Next to the altar humbly kneel, and thence
Give up thy soul in clouds of frankincense.
Thy golden censers fill'd with odours sweet
Shall make thy actions with their ends to meet.
Public domain. Source: PoetryDB. Reproduced verbatim; see theanthology for the full collection.
Poems like MATINS, OR MORNING PRAYER
Matched by documented rules, not taste: two points for every theme tag a poem shares with MATINS, OR MORNING PRAYER, one point for the same era, one for a similar length.