860    C.M.     J. Hart
“Pardon mine iniquity; for it is great.” Ps. 25. 11

1 From poisonous errors, pleasing cheats,
  And gilded baits of sin,
  Which, swallowed as delicious meats,
  Infect and rot within;

2 Lord, pardon a backslider base,
  Returning from the dead;
  Ashamed to show his shameful face,
  Or lift his guilty head.

3 Ah! what a fool have I been made!
  Or rather made myself;
  That mariner’s mad part I played,
  That sees, yet strikes the shelf.

4 How weak must be this wicked heart,
  Which, boasting much to know,
  Made light of all thy bitter smart
  And wantoned with thy woe!

5 Monstrous ingratitude I own,
  Well worthy wrath divine;
  Can blood such horrid crimes atone?
  Yes, blood so rich as thine.

6 Then, since thy mercy makes me melt,
  My baseness I deplore;
  Regard the grief and shame I’ve felt,
  And daily make them more.