A book of women's verse

by Unknown

Now, Heaven, heal the wound which I still deeply feel;

Thy glorious hosts look not in scorn on our poor race;

Thy King eternal doth no iron judgement deal

On suffering worms who seek forgiveness, comfort, grace

He gave our hearts to love, he will not love despise,

E’en if the gift be lost, as mine was long ago.

He will forgive the fault, will bid the offender rise,

Wash out with dews of bliss the fiery brand of woe;

And give a sheltered place beneath the unsullied throne,

Whence the soul redeemed may mark Time’s fleeting course around earth;