To err is human, to forgive divine!”
Brooding, brooding, alone in a darkened room,
A poor old father is mourning for his child;
Sadly, sadly, he thinks of the daughter fair,
Who by the tempter from home had been beguiled.
His eyes grow hot with tears, his heart grows hot with rage,
He thinks of how the base betrayer came;
A knock! the door is opened, his erring child is there,
And to the floor she sinks in abject shame.
Chorus.