Chamber Scene

She rose from her untroubled sleep,
And put away her soft brown hair,
And, in a tone as low and deep
As love's first whisper, breathed a prayer—
Her snow-white hands together prest,
Her blue eyes shelter'd in the lid,
The folded linen on her breast
Just swelling with the charms it hid;
And from her long and flowing dress
Escaped a bare and slender foot,
Whose shape upon the earth did press
Like a new snow-flake, white and "mute;"
And there, from slumber pure and warm,
Like a young spirit fresh from heaven,
She bow'd her slight and graceful form,
And humbly pray'd to be forgiven.

O God! if souls unsoil'd as these
Need daily mercy from Thy throne—
If she upon her bended knees—
Our loveliest and our purest one—
She, with a face so clear and bright
We deem her some stray child of light—
If she, with those soft eyes in tears,
Day after day in her first years,
Must kneel and pray for grace from Thee—
What far, far deeper need have we?
How hardly, if she win not heaven,
Will our wild errors be forgiven!