I have a faith that love can do as much;
Love that works miracles against a time
When all the world corrupts with saucy crime,
And heaven withdraws from us its saving touch.
O Love, God's deputy--alone, sublime,
The last, sad, lingering angel--though as such,
Shamed and profaned by every losel's clutch--
To heaven, through thee, permit my prayers to climb!
Oh! make me purer, if not wholly pure!
Dry up these burning springs of blood that gush
Out of my flesh, and hold my soul secure!
So that when we, amidst heaven's solemn hush,
Stand hand in hand, God's sentence to endure,
She may not turn, and for my frailty blush!