 | SCORN NOT THE ERRING. Water-drops |  |
18. SCORN NOT THE ERRING.
Scorn not the erring,—though her name
Should dregs of deep abhorrence stir;
Even though the kindling blush of shame
Burns deep on Virtue's cheek for her.
Judge not,—unless thy lip can tell
What wily tempter, fierce and strong,
Did the unguarded soul propel
To ruin's hidden gulf along.
The downward road, how fearful steep!
The upward cliff, how hard to climb!—
He only knows, whose records keep
The nameless, countless grades of crime.
Scorn not the erring,—thou whose heart,
In purpose pure is garnered strong:—
Claims penitence with thee no part?
Doth pride to mortal man belong?
For by thy follies unforgiven,
Wert thou at death's dread hour accused,
Even thou might at the gate of heaven
In terror knock,—and be refused.
Should dregs of deep abhorrence stir;
Even though the kindling blush of shame
Burns deep on Virtue's cheek for her.
Judge not,—unless thy lip can tell
What wily tempter, fierce and strong,
Did the unguarded soul propel
To ruin's hidden gulf along.
The downward road, how fearful steep!
The upward cliff, how hard to climb!—
He only knows, whose records keep
The nameless, countless grades of crime.
Scorn not the erring,—thou whose heart,
In purpose pure is garnered strong:—
Claims penitence with thee no part?
Doth pride to mortal man belong?
For by thy follies unforgiven,
Wert thou at death's dread hour accused,
Even thou might at the gate of heaven
In terror knock,—and be refused.
| SCORN NOT THE ERRING. Water-drops | |