For thou wast a woman too.

Evil promptings, dark-despairing,
Whisper: "Leave this sacred spot;
Back to sinful joys, repairing,
In them live and struggle not!"
But a bright hope tells that heaven
May by me e'en yet be won,
That I yet may be forgiven,
Mary, by thy spotless Son!

Yes! I look on thy mild features,
Full of dove-like, tender love--
Once the humblest of God's creatures,
Now with Him enthroned above!
Every trait angelic breathing
Sweetest promises of peace;
And the smile thy soft lips wreathing
Tell me that my griefs shall cease.

Soft the evening shadows gather
But no longer shall I wait,
I will rise and seek the Father,
For it is not yet too late;
And when earthly cares oppress me,
When life's paths my bruised feet pain;
Hither shall I come to rest me,
And new strength and courage gain!