I know thy fall to some appears

Our sect's reproach and shame;

That the dark clouds of distant years

Still hover round thy name;

That not the sceptic's taunt alone,

And bigot's harsh upbraiding tone,

Have been to thee unjust;

But some, who ought thy worth to feel,

Thy weakness gladly would conceal,

And view thee with distrust.

These think that nothing can atone

For such a lapse as thine,

And wish oblivion's curtain thrown

O’er every word and line

Which tells of thy o’erclouded hour,

Of darkness’ and delusion's power,

The strange and fearful tale;

As if their silence could efface

Each humbling, yet instructive trace

Of one who prov’d so frail.

Fruitless the wish, if such there be,

Thy weakness to forget;

Though there be much combin’d with thee

To waken keen regret;

Much to excite compassion's tear;

To prompt humility and fear,

And vigilance to teach;—

Yet in thy penitence and shame

Not less might strictest Truth proclaim,

Which every heart should reach.

Be it then known—though dire thy fall,

And dark thy error's night,

Thy spirit rose from every thrall

To liberty and light;—

That, through the Saviour's grace divine,

A peaceful, hopeful end was thine,

His matchless power to tell;

And Gospel precepts, undefil’d,

From lips no more by doubt beguil’d,

In dying accents fell.

“There is a spirit which I feel

That would revenge no wrong,

Whose calm endurance can reveal

The Hope that maketh strong;—

That Hope, which can all wrath outlive,

Contention's bitterness forgive,

The scoffs of pride endure;

Can wear out cruelty; subdue

Whatever is oppos’d unto

Its nature meek and pure.

“It sees to all temptation's end;

And, while it suffers not

Aught evil with itself to blend,

No brother's name would blot:

Betray’d, it bears it, for its ground

And spring is Mercy!—it is crown’d

With meekness, love unfeign’d;

It takes its kingdom but by prayer,

Not strife,—and keeps with humble care

What lowliness has gain’d:

“In God alone it can rejoice,

Though none regard beside: