102
LENT AND EASTER.
II.
In the lone desert of my own despair,
Robed in the sackcloth of unfriended grief,
With tears no eyes of earthly love can share,
My stricken soul implores of Heaven relief.
Robed in the sackcloth of unfriended grief,
With tears no eyes of earthly love can share,
My stricken soul implores of Heaven relief.
The scorching sand beneath my naked feet
And penitential ashes on my head,
I hear a Voice that calls me, heavenly sweet,
And the soft coming of a Stranger's tread.
And penitential ashes on my head,
I hear a Voice that calls me, heavenly sweet,
And the soft coming of a Stranger's tread.
Low kneeling in abasement I can feel
A hand of pity gently seeking mine,
A breath of tender mercy o'er me steal
From Human lips whose language is Divine.
A hand of pity gently seeking mine,
A breath of tender mercy o'er me steal
From Human lips whose language is Divine.
"Arise!" He saith, and lo! His word doth raise;
"Be whole!" He saith, and lo! His word doth heal;
Prostrate again I fall, but now m praise:
"Lord, at Thy feet forever let me kneel."
"Be whole!" He saith, and lo! His word doth heal;
Prostrate again I fall, but now m praise:
"Lord, at Thy feet forever let me kneel."
