Page:A Tale of the Secret Tribunal.pdf/38

Thy voice of pity and of love
Seems o'er its icy depths to move
E'en as a breeze of health, which brings
Life, hope, and healing, on its wings.
And there is mercy yet! I feel
Its influence o'er my spirit steal;
How welcome were each pang below,
If guilt might be aton'd by woe!
Think'st thou I yet may be forgiven?
Shall prayers unclose the gate of Heaven?
Oh! if it yet avail to plead,
If judgment be not yet decreed,
Our hearts shall blend their suppliant cry,
Till pardon shall be seal'd on high!
Yet, yet I shrink!—will Mercy shed
Her dews upon this fallen head?
—Kneel, Ella, kneel! till full and free
Descend forgiveness, won by thee!"

They knelt:—before the Cross, that sign
Of love eternal and divine;
That symbol, which so long hath stood
A rock of strength, on time's dark flood,
Clasp'd by despairing hands, and lav'd
By the warm tears of nations sav'd;
In one deep prayer their spirits blent,
The guilty and the innocent:
Youth, pure as if from Heaven its birth,
Age, soil'd with every stain of earth,
Knelt, offering up one heart, one cry,
One sacrifice of agony.