FORGIVENESS.
To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgivenesses, though we have rebelled against him.—Daniel, ix. 9.
When ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have ought against any: that your Father also which is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.
But if ye do not forgive, neither will your Father which is in heaven forgive your trespasses.—Mark, xi. 25, 26.
When they were come to the place, which is called Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left.
Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.—Luke, xxiii. 33, 34.
Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.—Ephesians, iv. 32.
Though in the secret paths of sin I trod,
Yet do not quite forsake me, O my God!
’Tis Thou alone canst ease me of my pain,
Thy healing hand can wash out every stain,
Can cleanse my soul, and make the leper clean.
Speak, love divine, and bid the suppliant live,
Oh, let mine ear but hail the word, “Forgive!”
Daniel.
Forgive thy foe;—nor that alone,
His evil deed with good repay;
Fill those with joy who leave thee none
And kiss the hand upraised to slay.
From the Persian.
Good nature and good sense must ever join;
To err is human, to forgive divine.
Pope.
Great souls forgive not injuries till time
Has put their enemies into their power,
That they may show forgiveness in their own.
Dryden.
My foemen, Lord, are fierce and fell,
They spurn me in their pride;
They render evil for my good,
My patience they deride.
Arise, O King! and be the proud
To righteous ruin driven!—
“Forgive!” an awful answer came,
“As thou would’st be forgiven.”
Heber.
O thou unknown, Almighty cause
Of all my hope and fear!
In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!
If I have wandered in those paths
Of life I ought to shun,
As something, loudly, in my breast,
Remonstrates I have done;
Thou know’st that Thou hast formed me
With passions wild and strong;
And list’ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.
Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept aside,
Do Thou, All-Good! for such thou art,
In shades of darkness hide.
Where with intention I have err’d,
No other plea I have,
But Thou art good; and Goodness still
Delighteth to forgive.
Burns.
Forgiveness! ’tis a joyful sound,
To rebel sinners doomed to die:
Publish the bliss the world around;
Ye seraphs shout it from the sky!
’Tis the rich gift of love divine;
’Tis full—outmeasuring every crime;
Unclouded shall its glories shine,
And feel no change by changing time.
For this stupendous love of heaven,
What grateful honour shall we shew?
Where much transgression is forgiven,
Let love with equal ardour glow.
Cheered by the hope of pardoning grace,
We come Thy mercy, Lord, to prove;
Like weeping Mary, let us taste
A pledge of Thy forgiving love.
Gibbons.
She rose from her untroubled sleep,
And put aside her soft brown hair,
And in a tone as low and deep
As love’s first whisper, breath’d a prayer.
And there, from slumber soft and warm,
Like a young spirit fresh from heaven,
She bow’d her slight and graceful form,
And humbly pray’d to be forgiven.
Oh, God! if souls unsoiled as these
Need daily mercy from Thy throne,
If she, upon her bended knees,
Our loveliest and purest one—
She, with a face so clear and bright,
We deem her some stray child of light;
If she, with those soft eyes in tears,
Day after day, in her first years,
Must kneel and pray for grace from Thee,
What far, far deeper need have we?
How hardly if she win not heaven,
Will our wild errors be forgiven?
N. P. Willis.
When on the fragrant sandal tree
The woodman’s axe descends,
And she who bloomed so beauteously
Beneath the keen stroke bends—
E’en on the edge that brought her death,
Dying, she breathes her sweetest breath,
As if to token in her fall
“Peace to her foes, and love to all.”
How hardly man this lesson learns,
To smile, and bless the hand that spurns;
To see the blow, and feel the pain,
But render only love again.
This spirit ne’er was given on earth;
One had it,—he of heavenly birth;
Reviled, rejected, and betrayed,
No curse He breathed, no plaint He made,
But when in death’s deep pang He sighed,
Prayed for his murderers—and died.
Edmeston.