the story of two lives.
25
"It was his crest," he said, which I should wear,
And laughing placed it waving in my hair;
He swore to leave all else, whate'er might be,
If I but sent that plume, to fly to me.
I dared not send it.—I am now alone;
May God forgive him as I long have done!
I know there has been wrong, but mine seems worst—
The guilt, the blame, be mine—I have no thirst
For aught but to forgive, and be forgiven;
I cling for mercy to God's feet—Oh Heaven!—
How that fair picture deepens in the night!
I hear a voice—I see a radiant light—
A hand held out which stills this aching breast—
"Come unto me, and I will give you rest."
And laughing placed it waving in my hair;
He swore to leave all else, whate'er might be,
If I but sent that plume, to fly to me.
I dared not send it.—I am now alone;
May God forgive him as I long have done!
I know there has been wrong, but mine seems worst—
The guilt, the blame, be mine—I have no thirst
For aught but to forgive, and be forgiven;
I cling for mercy to God's feet—Oh Heaven!—
How that fair picture deepens in the night!
I hear a voice—I see a radiant light—
A hand held out which stills this aching breast—
"Come unto me, and I will give you rest."
