WHEN I have done a Something Wrong,
I feel ashamed to kneel and pray.
But then the dark-time lasts so long,
And God seems—oh, so far away!—
That when the lights are out awhile,
I clamber out of bed once more
And pour my pennies in a pile.
... I listen at the door,
And then I get upon my knees,
And whisper just for God to hear,
To ask him, oh, just once more, please,
Will he forgive and come back near,
If I will make a promise quick
To give my pennies to the sick?