THE PENITENT.
Sorrowful, weak, dejected, and in fear,
Most Merciful, I fall before thy throne!
The world through wickedness is dark and drear,
Peace and content are found in Heaven alone.
A retrospect of sin behind me lies,
A peccant youth all spent at Belial’s shrine!
The meek Judæan beckoned from the skies;
I heeded not, seduced by powers malign.
The scales are fallen from my darkened sight,
A potent euphrasy is poured therein;
I look around with terror and affright,
Behold the world is vanity and sin!
With labor infinite, the race of men
Their ruined mansion struggle to restore;
By their own might they think to make again
The Earth a happy Eden as of yore.
This task no mortal skill can execute,
All Archimedean subtleties are vain;
Invention, sciences, and minds astute,
Are baulked, like those of old on Shinar’s plain.
Though unto us the elements become
Obsequious helots to our wills subdued;
Though, Ariel-like, the glittering lightning run,
To do our errands over land and flood;
All is in vain—a doom—a deadly blight
Is on us, and our space-embosomed home;
Our fallen natures can be made upright
By meek contrition and by faith alone.