Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Idle Words

Idle Words.

"I have a high sense of the virtue and dignity of the female character, and would not, by any means, be thought to attribute to the ladies emphatically, the fault here spoken of. But I have remarked it in some of my friends, who, in all but this, were among the loveliest of their sex. In such, the blemish is more distinct and striking, because so strongly contrasted with the superior delicacy and loveliness of their natures."—Sacred Harp of American Poetry.

"My God!" the beauty oft exclaimed, With deep impassioned tone,But not in humble prayer she named The High and Holy One!

'Twas not upon the bended knee, With soul upraised to heaven,Pleading, with heartfelt agony, That she might be forgiven.

'Twas not in heavenly strains to raise To the great Source of good,Her daily offering of praise, Her song of gratitude.

But in the gay and thoughtless crowd, And in the festive hall,'Mid scenes of mirth and mockery proud, She named the Lord of all.

She called upon that awful name, When laughter loudest rang—Or when the flush of triumph came— Or disappointment's pang!

The idlest thing that flattery knew, The most unmeaning jest,Prom those sweet lips profusely drew Names of the Holiest!

I thought—how sweet that voice should be, Breathing this prayer to Heaven—"My God, I worship only Thee; Oh, be my sins forgiven!"