How sweet, in that dark hour, to fall
  On bosoms waiting to receive
Our sighs, and gently whisper all!
  They love us—will not God forgive?

Else let us keep our fast within,
  Till Heaven and we are quite alone,
Then let the grief, the shame, the sin,
  Before the mercy-seat be thrown.
Between the porch and altar weep,
  Unworthy of the holiest place,
Yet hoping near the shrine to keep
  One lowly cell in sight of grace.

Nor fear lest sympathy should fail -
  Hast thou not seen, in night hours drear,
When racking thoughts the heart assail,
  The glimmering stars by turns appear,
And from the eternal house above
  With silent news of mercy steal?
So Angels pause on tasks of love,
  To look where sorrowing sinners kneel.

Or if no Angel pass that way,
  He who in secret sees, perchance
May bid His own heart-warming ray
  Toward thee stream with kindlier glance,
As when upon His drooping head
  His Father's light was poured from Heaven,
What time, unsheltered and unfed,
  Far in the wild His steps were driven.

High thoughts were with Him in that hour,
  Untold, unspeakable on earth -
And who can stay the soaring power
  Of spirits weaned from worldly mirth,
While far beyond the sound of praise
  With upward eye they float serene,
And learn to bear their Saviour's blaze
  When Judgment shall undraw the screen?