O FATHER, list a sinner's call!
Fain would I hide from man my fall—
But I must speak, or faint—
I cannot wear guilt's silent thrall:
Cleanse me, kind Saint!
"Sinner ne'er blunted yet sin's goad;
Speed thee, my son, a safer road,
And sue His pardoning smile
Who walk'd woe's depths, bearing man's load
Of guilt the while."
Yet raise a mitigating hand,
And minister some potion bland,
Some present fever-stay!
Lest one for whom His work was plann'd
Die from dismay.
"Look not to me—no grace is mine;
But I can lift the Mercy-sign.
This wouldst thou? Let it be!
Kneel down, and take the word divine,
Off Cape St. Vincent.
December 14, 1832.