(23 November 1834 - 3 June 1882 / Port Glasgow, Scotland)

Once In A Saintly Passion

Once in a saintly passion
I cried with desperate grief,
"O Lord, my heart is black with guile,
Of sinners I am chief."
Then stooped my guardian angel
And whispered from behind,
"Vanity, my little man,
You're nothing of the kind."

User Rating: 2,7 / 5 ( 29 votes )

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.