"They tell me if, with patient heart,
I bear my wrongs from day to day,
I shall, at death, to realms depart,
Where God wipes every tear away!
"Yet still, at times, with fear I shrink;
For, when with sense of injury prest,
I burn with rage! and then I think
I ne'er can gain that place of rest."
He ceas'd; for here his tears would flow,
And ne'er resum'd his tale of ruth.
Alas! it rends my heart to know
He only told a tale of truth.
Printed by Harvey, Darton, and Co.