84
Poems
And most of all the touch of baby hands,
To pluck the thorns of sin and pain away,—
To fill my life with faith and hope and prayer,
And keep this shadow,—dark despair, at bay.
To pluck the thorns of sin and pain away,—
To fill my life with faith and hope and prayer,
And keep this shadow,—dark despair, at bay.
Oh, crown me with this fairest woman's crown!
And fill the empty chambers of my life
With pattering baby feet, and let renown
Pass by me, and this futile, wearying strife!
And fill the empty chambers of my life
With pattering baby feet, and let renown
Pass by me, and this futile, wearying strife!
With black and crimson sins my soul is stained,
Oh, let Thy healing waters wash me pure!
The cup of pleasure to the dregs I've drained,
And they are deadly, but Thy love can cure!
Oh, let Thy healing waters wash me pure!
The cup of pleasure to the dregs I've drained,
And they are deadly, but Thy love can cure!
Stretch out Thy hand and lead me to the light!
I am too blind to find the way alone!
I should stand fully shriven in Thy sight,
If suffering can for my sins atone!
I am too blind to find the way alone!
I should stand fully shriven in Thy sight,
If suffering can for my sins atone!
If my poor prayers You heed not, nor reply,—
If all is darkness, as it seems to be,—
Dear angel Death from out that darkness fly,
And fold thy wings about my prayers and me!
If all is darkness, as it seems to be,—
Dear angel Death from out that darkness fly,
And fold thy wings about my prayers and me!
