Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/45

44 In thy sole, sorrowing presence, Son of God!— I feel the breathing of those holy men, From whom thy gospel, as on angel's wing Went out, through all the earth.—I see how deep Sin in the soul may lurk, and fain would kneel Low at thy blessed feet, and trembling ask— "Lord!—is it I?"

For who may tell, what dregs Do slumber in his breast.—Thou, who didst taste Of man's infirmities, yet bar his sins From thine unspotted soul, forsake us not, In our temptations, but so guide our feet, That our Last Supper in this world may lead To that immortal banquet by thy side, Where there is no betrayer.