The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, , at sacred-texts.com
Far-reaching were, his life proclaims,
The plans of his great mind;
But how to carry out his aims
I fail as yet to find. p. 452
When most my powers I shall have tried
To reach to his grand height,
My steps will ever turn aside,
Or to the left or right.
I'm but a child, how can I hope
Aright my seat to fill,
Or with the many troubles cope
That bode disturbance still?
O excellent and mighty sire,
To help thy son now deign!
With thy high wisdom me inspire,
And on thy throne maintain.
To thee, as ever near, I'll try
My virtue true to prove.
In court, in house, before my eye,
Thy form shall always move.