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143
Fourth Sunday in Lent.
“We for our evil deeds do worthily deserve to be punished.”
—Collect for the Day.
Unsoothed by pardon, what is boastful life
When burden'd with remember'd sin?—
Gnaw'd by remorse, or gall'd with goading strife
How hell-like is the heart within?
Abroad, at home, awake, asleep,
Ghosts of dead crime around us creep!
When burden'd with remember'd sin?—
Gnaw'd by remorse, or gall'd with goading strife
How hell-like is the heart within?
Abroad, at home, awake, asleep,
Ghosts of dead crime around us creep!
A Nemesis there rules, which haunts the soul,
A sightless Fury none can see;
Whom neither falsehood, nor the fiends control,
Whose lash is lost eternity—
And that is,—guilt! beneath the curse
Of Him who sways the Universe!
A sightless Fury none can see;
Whom neither falsehood, nor the fiends control,
Whose lash is lost eternity—
And that is,—guilt! beneath the curse
Of Him who sways the Universe!
Pris'ners of hope in Christ alone have found,
By His anointed Priests imparted,—
A threefold pardon, which the Lord has crown'd,
To cheer the bruised and broken-hearted;
Whose sins, through penitence and prayer,
Absolving lips of Truth declare
By His anointed Priests imparted,—
A threefold pardon, which the Lord has crown'd,
To cheer the bruised and broken-hearted;
Whose sins, through penitence and prayer,
Absolving lips of Truth declare
On earth remitted, and in heaven the same,
By charter'd Priesthood:—such the creed
Christ and His Church to contrite hearts proclaim,
When pardon is their public need,
Who in God's absolution find
An anchor for the guilt-toss'd mind.
By charter'd Priesthood:—such the creed
Christ and His Church to contrite hearts proclaim,
When pardon is their public need,
Who in God's absolution find
An anchor for the guilt-toss'd mind.
O Thou! Whose Justice is “consuming fire”
With which accusing conscience glows,
Less than Thine Oath could never love inspire
To feel, what rudest peasant knows,—
How, not in vengeance, but in grace
We most adore th' almighty-Face.
With which accusing conscience glows,
Less than Thine Oath could never love inspire
To feel, what rudest peasant knows,—
How, not in vengeance, but in grace
We most adore th' almighty-Face.
144
Thy Paraclete, and true repentance, give,
Fountain of all which faith imparts!
And, since we learn, precisely as we live,—
Be love the decalogue of Hearts,
Who in Thy law their wills employ
And find obedience perfect joy.
Fountain of all which faith imparts!
And, since we learn, precisely as we live,—
Be love the decalogue of Hearts,
Who in Thy law their wills employ
And find obedience perfect joy.
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