CONFITEOR 



" Still I hear it over the battle's din, 



And over the festive cheer, — 

 So she pray'd with clasp'd hands, white and 



thin, — 

 The prayer of a soul absolved from sin, 



For a soul that is dark and drear, 

 For the light of repentance bursting in, 



And the flood of the blinding tear. 



"Say, priest! when the saint must vainly 

 plead, 



Oh ! how shall the sinner fare ? 

 I hold your comfort a broken reed ; 

 Let the wither 'd branch for itself take heed, 



While the green shoots wait your care ; 

 I've striven, though feebly, to grasp your creed, 



And I've grappled my own despair." 



** By the little within thee, good and brave, 

 Not wholly shattered, though shaken ; 



By the soul that crieth beyond the grave, 



The love that He once in His mercy gave. 

 In His mercy since retaken, 



I conjure thee, oh ! sinner, pardon crave ! 



I implore thee, oh ! sleeper, waken ! " 



89 



