"He is—and of late he is more unreserved, more affectionate than he used to be; his sympathy is very sweet. I must speak of yourself, also, Mr. Lacy, although I have no language to thank you for your kindness. I fear I have been wearisome at times; but you seem to understand why this was no common bereavement to me."
"So far from being wearied, I am grateful for your confidence. No act of mine shall cause you to repent it."
"Charley has given me some lines which he thinks were written recently," said Ida. "They were among some loose sheets in a portfolio of drawings. I wept over them, but they comforted me. I have been wishing that you had them. This is a rough copy, you observe; and probably not read after being penned."
Mr. Lacy's eyes filled, as he read at the top of the page, "11-1/2 P.M., after a visit from M. L."
"ALL IN CHRIST.
Jesus, Saviour! from Thy dwelling,
High all stars and thrones above,
Hear my faltering accents, telling
Of weak faith and smouldering love.
Poor love for Thee, the only worthy—
Dull faith In Thee, the only wise—
While to all things base and earthy,
How madly cling my wistful eyes!
I am blind! in rough paths groping,
With outstretched hands and sightless eyes;
Through gloom so dense, I scarce am hoping
That dawn will ever gild the skies.
Black, grisly spectres hover o'er me,
Filling my quaking soul with fright;
Thou—of all worlds the sun and glory,
Radiant Redeemer! be my light.
I am lonely! often keeping
Sad vigils o'er affections dead;
Some in the grave's strait chamber sleeping—
Some like bursting bubbles fled!
Yet for full love my deep soul longeth—
Gently each seeking tendril bend
To Thee—to whom that soul belongeth;—
Loving Redeemer! be my friend.
I am guilty! oh how sinning!
Against my kind—against my God;—
Hell and corruption ever winning
My soul into the downward road.
Insanely gloating on pollution—
Quaffing thick lees for pleasures pure—
Rend thou away each fell delusion,
Holy Redeemer! be my cure!"
"Do you recollect the visit to which he refers?" inquired Ida.