Classic Poem

Reflect , reflect, my soul,
Ere it become too late,
How thou hast err'd throughout the whole
Of this thy trial state.

Go back, poor child of pride,
To thy first youthful crime;
See how thy sins have multiplied
Since that forgotten time!

See how in swarms they rise
Into the light of day;
Enough to blacken all the skies,
And blot the sun away!

See thought and word and deed,
An offspring all thine own, —
Up from the guilty past proceed;
And gather, thy accusers dread,
Before the Judgment Throne.

Thou tremblest! — Ah, no more
Live on to sloth a slave;
Believe, lament, confess, adore!
Soon — O, how soon! — will all be o'er!
Repentance, if not learnt before,
Is idle in the grave!