 | The poems of Robert Traill Spence Lowell |  |
23
THE DAYS OF SIN.
Oh, mournful, mournful time!
I prayed: but sin was there:
Sin crept upon my prayer,
And made my prayer a crime!
I prayed: but sin was there:
Sin crept upon my prayer,
And made my prayer a crime!
I prayed, and prayed again:
But sin was in it still!
It throttled my weak will;
I struggled—but in vain.
But sin was in it still!
It throttled my weak will;
I struggled—but in vain.
I burned by day and night,
I feared that fire of sin—
Its covering seemed so thin—
Would show to other's sight!
I feared that fire of sin—
Its covering seemed so thin—
Would show to other's sight!
My daily work I did,—
I talked of Heaven and Hell,
Full often and full well,—
But ah! what woe I hid!
I talked of Heaven and Hell,
Full often and full well,—
But ah! what woe I hid!
24
It seemed as if my fate
Were up: in Satan's mesh—
A damnéd soul in flesh—
I lived beyond my date.
Were up: in Satan's mesh—
A damnéd soul in flesh—
I lived beyond my date.
Christ's life in me seemed lost!
Where was the promise now,
Sealed to me when my brow
In his blest sign was cross'd?
Where was the promise now,
Sealed to me when my brow
In his blest sign was cross'd?
I strove to fly from me;
Always it was the same;
Hell was where'er I came;
God's wrath I could not flee.
Always it was the same;
Hell was where'er I came;
God's wrath I could not flee.
Such life I loathed to keep,
But could I dare to die?
Heaven's walls so hopeless high
And Hell a soundless deep?
But could I dare to die?
Heaven's walls so hopeless high
And Hell a soundless deep?
My heart aye told me well
I gave myself away,
To be the Devil's prey—
By my own hand I fell.
I gave myself away,
To be the Devil's prey—
By my own hand I fell.
I struggled once for all;
God's altar—there I prayed;
And bitter cry I made
Behind my closet wall.
God's altar—there I prayed;
25
Behind my closet wall.
A change began to be!
I felt the Breath of Life!
For Heaven and Hell was strife:
I struggled, and was free!
I felt the Breath of Life!
For Heaven and Hell was strife:
I struggled, and was free!
Ah! now the strife was done:
I sought the Flesh and Blood;
I ate Salvation's food;
My soul to Christ was won.
I sought the Flesh and Blood;
I ate Salvation's food;
My soul to Christ was won.
February 10, 1847.
| The poems of Robert Traill Spence Lowell | |