The Poems of Goethe - Part 138
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Part 138

Light clouds are stealing; Penitents fair are they,

Who, humbly kneeling, Sip in the ether sweet, As they for grace entreat.

Thou, who art from pa.s.sions free,

Kindly art inclin'd, When the sons of frailty

Seek thee, meek in mind.

Borne by weakness' stream along,

Hard it is to save them; Who can burst l.u.s.t's chains so strong,

That, alas, enslave them?

O how soon the foot may slip,

When the smooth ground pressing!

O, how false are eye and lip,

False a breath caressing!

MATER GLORLOSA hovers past.

CHORUS OF PENITENT WOMEN.

To bring realms on high

In majesty soaring, O, hark to our cry

Thy pity imploring, Thou help to the cheerless, In glory so peerless!

MAGNA PECCATRIX (St. Luke vii. 36).

By the love, which o'er the feet

Of thy G.o.d-transfigur'd Son Dropp'd the team, like balsam sweet,

Spite of ev'ry scornful one; By the box of ointment rare,

Whence the drops so fragrant fell; By the locks, whose gentle care

Dried His holy members well--

muller SAMARITANA (St, John iv.).

By the well where Abram erst

Drove his flocks to drink their fill; By the bucket which the thirst

Of the Saviour served to still; By the fountain, balm-exhaling,

That from yon bright region flows, Ever clear and never failing.

As round ev'ry world it goes--

MARIA AEGYPTIACA (Acta Sanctorum).

By the sacred spot immortal,

Where the Lord's remains they plac'd; By the arm, that from the portal

Drove me back with warning haste; By my forty years of lowly

Penance in a desert land; By the farewell greetings holy

That I wrote upon the sand--

THE THREE.

Thou who ne'er thy radiant face

From the greatest sinners hides, Thou who Thine atoning grace

Through eternity provident,

Let this soul, by virtue stirr'd,

Self-forgetful though when living, That perceived not that it err'd,

Feel thy mercy, sin forgiving!

UNA POENITENTIUM.

(Once named Margaret, pressing near them.)

Oh radiance-spreading One,

Who equall'd art by none, In mercy view mine ecstasy!

For he whom erst I loved,

No more by sorrow proved, Returns at length to me!

BEATIFIED CHILDREN.

(Approaching as they hover round.)

He now in strength of limb