CHRISTMAS NIGHT IN ST. PETER'S.
159
Great hymns float through
The shadowed aisles. I hear a slow
Refrain, "Forgive them, for they know
Not what they do."
The shadowed aisles. I hear a slow
Refrain, "Forgive them, for they know
Not what they do."
With tender joy all others thrill;
I have but tears:
The false priests' voices, high and shrill,
Reiterate the "Peace, good-will;"
I have but tears.
I hear anew
The nails and scourge; then come the low
Sad words, "Forgive them, for they know
Not what they do."
I have but tears:
The false priests' voices, high and shrill,
Reiterate the "Peace, good-will;"
I have but tears.
I hear anew
The nails and scourge; then come the low
Sad words, "Forgive them, for they know
Not what they do."
Close by my side the poor souls kneel;
I turn away;
Half-pitying looks at me they steal;
They think, because I do not feel,
I turn away.
Ah! if they knew,
How following them, where'er they go,
I hear, "Forgive them, for they know
Not what they do."
I turn away;
Half-pitying looks at me they steal;
They think, because I do not feel,
I turn away.
Ah! if they knew,
How following them, where'er they go,
I hear, "Forgive them, for they know
Not what they do."
Above the organ's sweetest strains
I hear the groans
Of prisoners, who lie in chains,
So near, and in such mortal pains,
I hear the groans.
I hear the groans
Of prisoners, who lie in chains,
So near, and in such mortal pains,
I hear the groans.
