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;