XXXIII.
Who wrongs the widow, will be judged by One
Who makes the widow his peculiar care;
O, wretched, wretched man! whose setting sun
Shall sink amid the clouds of dark despair!
In God’s own book the words of truth declare
That man accurs’d. Thou, who hast e’er oppress’d
The fatherless or widow, canst thou bear
To die with such a stain upon thy breast,
And hear thy Maker say, ‘Thou shalt not see my rest?’