BY 25700.

If, amid these prison shadows,
These pale lips should breathe their last,

Would my friends regret the summons,
And forgive my guilty past?

Would they know the dire temptations
I had met and nobly braved

Ere the tears in guilty passion
My pale cheeks in torrents laved?

Would they know how oft and earnest
I had plead before the throne

For the place my crime made vacant
In the bosom of my own?

Would these hours of retribution
Prove sufficient for my sin?

Would the gates of glory open
To let this weary wanderer in?

Hear, Oh, hear! From yonder heaven
Speaks the Lamb once crucified;

"Look up, sad one; never falter;
For such sinners once I died."