"My God!" the beauty oft exclaimed,
In deep impassioned tone;
But not in humble prayer, she named
The High and Holy One;
'Twas not upon the bended knee,
With soul upraised to Heaven,
Pleading with heartfelt agony,
That she might be forgiven.
'Twas not in heavenly strains
She raised, to the great Source of Good,
Her daily offering of praise,
Her song of gratitude.
But in the gay and thoughtless crowd,
And in the festive Hall,
'Midst scenes of mirth and mockery proud
She named the Lord of All.
The idlest thing that flattery knew,
The most unmeaning jest,
From her sweet lips profanely drew,
Names of the Holiest!
I thought how sweet that voice would be,
Breathing this prayer to Heaven,
"My God, I worship only thee,
Oh be my sins forgiven!"