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- I have turned away
from In Thee do I put my trust, To such Thou hast promised forgiveness,
And Thou art faithful and just !”
With that the Demon disappear’d,
Nor voice, nor vision more
He stirr'd not from his station,
At morn, he found him there.
WELL might the Bishop see what he
Had undergone that night ;
So should the inner change, he ween'd,
With the outward sign accord ;
“ Well hast thou done,” said he,
my son, And faithfully fought the fight; So shall this day complete, I trust,
The victory of the night. ;
“ I fear’d that forty days and nights
Too little all might be; But great and strange hath been the change
One night hath wrought in thee."
“O Father, Father!” he replied,
6 And hath it been but one ?
I almost thought Eternity
“ And surely this poor flesh and blood
If grace had not been given ;
I then had help from Heaven.
heart is gone;
“ The coldness from my
But still the weight is there, And thoughts which I abhor, will come
And tempt me to despair.
“Those thoughts I constantly repel;
Could I but weep once more,
My dreadful state deplore.
6 Tears are denied; their source is dried !
And must it still be so ?
The living waters flow,
" A broken and a bleeding heart
This hour I offer Thee;
Shall then again be free !"
A knocking at the door was heard
As he ended this reply ;
The Bishop turn’d his eye,
And his venerable Mother,
“ We have not ceased this mournful night,"
Said she, “ on Heaven to call ;
And our afflicted Cyra
Hath edified us all.
“ More fervent prayers from suffering heart,
I ween, have ne'er been sent;
To see the penitent.
“ So earnestly she ask'd, that I
Her wish would not defer;
Forgive me, Son, if I err.”
“ Hard were I did I not consent
O Mother,” he replied ;
Thou innocent!” he cried.
That welcome word when Cyra heard,
With a sad pace and slow,
Was overcharged with woe.
Her face was pale, .. long illness would
Have changed those features less ;
Her husband's words had reach'd her ear
When at the door she stood; “ Thou hast pray'd in vain for tears,” she said,
“ While I have pour'd a flood !
“ Mine flow, and they will flow; they must ;
They cannot be represt!
The stigma from thy breast !
“ Oh that these tears might cleanse that spot, ..
Tears which I cannot check!”
She fell upon his neck.
He clasp'd the mourner close, and in
That passionate embrace,
His own tremendous case.
Warm as they fell he felt her tears,
And in true sympathy,
His own to flow were free.
And then the weight was taken off,
! and the crimson spot
At that most happy sight,
The four with one accord
The mercy of the Lord.