A Wick in Flicker Nothing Needeth

If flame hath burned to only burn,
A wick in flicker nothing needeth,
A time be nigh for dark’s return
As didst the light precedeth;
No longer sparken’d night
Doth cometh ghastly shright:
 
A modern error trow’d I tale,
Ye rove the Earth to query purpose,
But asketh barque its timber spale
Decideth self but worthless;
The serpent gulpeth self
But not its essence welth:
 
If mote and mite were tidings ill,
For shame we wist its troubled founding!
Effaced hath grace, ye grace a-twill,
Infused in grace redounding;
Ye world demands a rule,
I heed its wanting shool
 
To groundly bind by succored psalter:
If not by throne, by altar.