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But, O! not all that I could do
Would stop the current of my woe;
Conviction still my vileness shew'd;
How great my guilt — how lost to good.
'Prevented, that I could not die,
'Nor could to one sure refuge fly;
'An orphan state I had to mourn,—
'Forsook by all, and left forlorn.'
Those who beheld my downcast mien,
Could not guess at my woes unseen:
They by appearance could not know
The troubles that I waded through.
Lust, anger, blasphemy, and pride,
With legions of such ills beside,
'Troubled my thoughts,' while doubts and fears
Clouded and darken'd most my years.
'Sighs now no more would be confin'd—
'They breath'd the trouble of my mind:'
I wish'd for death, but check'd the word,
And often pray'd untol the Lord.
Unhappy, more than some on earth,
I thought the place that gave me birth—
Strange thoughts oppress'd — while I replied,
"Why not in Ethiopia died?"
And why thus spar'd when nigh to hell!—
God only knew — I could not tell! —
'A tott'ring fence, a bowing wall,
'I though myself e'er since the fall.'
