The Reliquary By Bernard and Lucy Barton. With A Prefatory Appeal for Poetry and Poets |
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| I. |
| II. |
THE PRODIGAL SON. |
 | The Reliquary |  |
THE PRODIGAL SON.
He kneels amid the brutish herd,
But not in dumb despair,
For passion's holiest depths are stirr'd,
And grief finds vent in prayer.
But not in dumb despair,
For passion's holiest depths are stirr'd,
And grief finds vent in prayer.
Not abject, though in wretchedness,
For faith and hope supply,
In this dread hour of deep distress,
Their feelings pure and high.
For faith and hope supply,
In this dread hour of deep distress,
Their feelings pure and high.
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While thus a suppliant he kneels,
“Cast down but not destroyed,”
A sweeter bliss his sorrow feels
Than riot e'er enjoyed.
“Cast down but not destroyed,”
A sweeter bliss his sorrow feels
Than riot e'er enjoyed.
“I will arise,”—his looks declare,
“And seek my Father's face;
His servants still have bread to spare,
Be mine a servant's place!”
“And seek my Father's face;
His servants still have bread to spare,
Be mine a servant's place!”
And soon each penitential hope
For him shall be fulfill'd,
For him his Father's arms shall ope,
The fatted calf be kill'd.
For him shall be fulfill'd,
For him his Father's arms shall ope,
The fatted calf be kill'd.
Oh penitence! how strong thy spell
O'er hearts by anguish riven;
Victorious over death and hell,
Of mercy's power it loves to tell,
And whispers, for despair's stern knell,
“Repent and be forgiven!”
O'er hearts by anguish riven;
Victorious over death and hell,
Of mercy's power it loves to tell,
And whispers, for despair's stern knell,
“Repent and be forgiven!”
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