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109

He spake, with blushes, and with tears,
Of the thoughtless guilt of his former years;
He told me all his bosom's woe,
And asked if peace I could bestow—
If hope there could be for such as him,
With Ms faith so dark, and his light so dim.

I bade him view the skies above,
And I told him that our God was love;
That not so dear the babe to her,
Whom now he saw caressing there,
As was the smallest earthly thing
That lived beneath His guardian wing,

To Him who kept us in His care;
I softly calmed away despair,
And I read the wandering son's return,
Till I saw his spirit within him burn,
And a sweet expression of almost bliss,
As I spoke of the Father's pardoning lass.

So soothed, he gently dropped to sleep,
And his pallid cheeks forgot to weep;
And grateful, I felt that my task was done,
That the meed was given, the prize was won;
Enough for me that day to know,
I had lived to succour some human woe!