I LEFt t, a c ,

        A woman scar years:

        I e to thee, a solemn corpse

        her feels nor fears.

        I o use in sighs;

        ts on mine eyes

        to seal tears.

        Look on me hine own calm look:

        I meet it calm as thou.

        No look of this smile,

        Or break thy sinful vow:

        I tell t my poor sd

        Is of t:

        It ot vex thee now.

        I ing sob

        hen passions course was free;

        I    lips

        In the anguish none could see;

        t, S--

        But I only prayd for thee.

        Go to! I pray for thee no more:

        tongue is still;

        Its folded fingers point to heaven,

        But point tiff and chill:

        No farther woe

        he sin below

        Its tranquil    to thrill.

        I che livings prayer,

        And tness,

        to    thy soul a cry

        hich God shall hear and bless!

        Lest heavens own palm droop in my hand,

        And pale among ts I stand,

        A saint panionless.
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