Out of my penitence there has grown hope;
I trust and raise my suppliant eyes to Heaven,
And when my soul desponds, I meekly say,
“I know that my Redeemer liveth.”
Miss Landon.
He dies; in whose high victory,
The slayer, death himself, shall die,
He dies; by whose all-conquering tread
Shall yet be crushed the serpent’s head;