THE PARK.
61
Leave thy tremblings, leave thy doubtings, let thy sins stand out of sight;They are quick enough to seize thee—Law and Conscience claim their right;Rest one moment from the summing thy offences and thy meed,Leave the weary task to Love whose grace is wider than thy need.
Gather tender thoughts about thee, gather holy hope and power,Call the names of all thy dear ones, let them keep with thee this hour,Hold the shadows of thy children in thine arms and on thy knee,With the rapture, dear and costly, that attends Nativity.
Soft, the angels close around thee—so, thou walkest dream-pursued,Golden cords of help unwinding, in the circling solitude,Seest stars immortal kindling from the failing suns that set,And believest, though thy friend is gone, his love surrounds thee yet.
