Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/280

 "My heart is black with sin!" he cried,
 * "My soul can find no rest;

Extend Thine arms of mercy wide
 * And take me to Thy breast.

Canst Thou deny one soul relief
 * For whom Thy blood was shed?

Didst Thou not save the sorrowing thief
 * E'en as death bow'd Thy head?"

Athwart the altar passed a glow
 * From out the western heav'n—

The Messenger of Peace, to show
 * His guilt was all forgiven.

Uprais'd in hope, his glazing eye
 * With rapture's light was fired;

He sank before the Altar High,
 * And in a smile expir'd.

For vespers rang the cloister bell;
 * The abbot with his train,

Each from his solitary cell,
 * Came slowly in amain;

The rising moonbeams softly broke
 * Upon that prostrate head;

The solemn organ sweetly woke
 * Its requiem for the dead.

"Omicron."