A REVERIE.
27
Not one of the many, presumed to be first,
To cast, (himself, blameless of wrong)
A stone at the erring one who had sinned,
But the voice of the Great One replied,
"Neither do I condemn thee, go sin no more,"
For such the Son of man died.
To cast, (himself, blameless of wrong)
A stone at the erring one who had sinned,
But the voice of the Great One replied,
"Neither do I condemn thee, go sin no more,"
For such the Son of man died.
While the blue heavens above us endure,
Perfection shall never find place
In the heart of the pilgrim, till shadowing far,
His eyes on the City of Grace,
Shall rest in sweet quietude never away,
To wander through darkness and gloom,
For life is a battle with passion and strife,
From the cradle to the tomb.
Perfection shall never find place
In the heart of the pilgrim, till shadowing far,
His eyes on the City of Grace,
Shall rest in sweet quietude never away,
To wander through darkness and gloom,
For life is a battle with passion and strife,
From the cradle to the tomb.
