IN FRENCH FIELDS.
155
What matters song with harp and voice,
What matters if we tread where trod
The saints, and in the dance rejoice
Before the holy Ark of God,
If soon, too soon, at ease the soul
Cast off her widow's weeds and dole,
And dissipate what she should feel
Continually; and what she pays,
Poor guilty thing, in thanks and praise,
From her repentance rashly steal!
