He, with suspicious glance
The curtain'd breast doth read,
And raise the accusing balance high,
To weigh the doubtful deed.
Oh Thou, whose piercing thought
Doth note each secret path,
For mercy to Thy throne, we fly,
From man's condemning wrath.
Thou, who dost dimness mark
In Heaven's resplendent way,
And folly in that angel host
Who serve thee night and day.
How fearless should our trust
In thy compassion be,
When from our brother of the dust
We dare appeal to Thee.
FILIAL CLAIMS.
Who bendeth with meek eye, and bloodless cheek
Thus o'er the new-born babe? content to take
As payment for all agony and pain,
Its first soft kiss, its first breath on her brow,
The first faint pressure of its tiny hand?
It is not needful that I speak the name
Of that one being on this earth, whose love
Doth never faulter.
