Classic Poem

O CHARITY ! that couldst receive
The dying thief's repentant pray'r;
And didst upon the cross relieve
Thy fellow-suff'rer there!

Tho' he revil'd among the rest—
Before the point of utmost dread,
Grace unto pray'r was first imprest,
And then forgiveness sped.

Alas! the more of us defraud
The Lord of his most righteous due,
And live by guiding truth unaw'd,
And vanities pursue.

The harlot vice with joy we clasp,
Nor shun to meet her tainted breath;
And leave repentance to the gasp
Of hope-retarded death;

Albeit there are appointed times
For men to worship and to fast;
Then purge your conscience of its crimes
At least while those shall last.

The words of vengeance threat the tree,
And fix their axes to the helves—
Pray therefore—pray for such as flee
Their Saviour and themselves.

Since some are but the more defil'd,
As canons urge them to comply,
And Christ's example in the wild
By thwarting texts deny;

Read on your knees the holy book
That's penn'd to sooth despondent fears—
And if the Lord but deign a look,
Remember Peter's tears.