 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
Alone, alone, I fell into a strain
Of musing melancholy,
Recalling, with keen sense of shame and pain,
A man whom, living, I had reckoned vain,
And to his calling holy
Untrue, until I read, with blinding tears
Which give clear sight, the story of his fears
And clingings unto God through weary years,
Till peace came slowly
To him grown meek and lowly.
Of musing melancholy,
Recalling, with keen sense of shame and pain,
A man whom, living, I had reckoned vain,
And to his calling holy
Untrue, until I read, with blinding tears
Which give clear sight, the story of his fears
And clingings unto God through weary years,
Till peace came slowly
To him grown meek and lowly.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |