 | Poems by Thomas Odiorne . |  |
XI.
In looks benign, with smiles ineffable,Mercy, descending, now commenc'd her work
Of love on earth. Nor could the character,
Divine, have been to finite view display'd,
Save from the circumstance of moral ill.
Nor could soft Pity, bending o'er distress,
Have e'er enjoy'd her sympathising spell,
Or into sorrow's wound her balsam pour'd.
So long as man had free from guilt remain'd,
He never had rejoic'd in Mercy's smile.
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And, but for sin and penalty incurr'd,
Important attributes, develop'd now
In character, were dormant and unknown.
The human soul, in its primeval state,
Like a young bud sequester'd from the sun,
Shone not, in all its lovely innocence,
As shines the glory of the soul redeem'd.
| Poems by Thomas Odiorne . | |