Sin that it was, ay, and shame that it is, and blemish eternal.
What else too shall it be? What else eternal become?
God be thank’d! There’s a Law that can turn all blemish to Beauty,
And the worst crime into a tool for the Hand of Eternal Good.
I know, for I’ve seen it done! I see it everywhere, doing!
Look you, and see—yon paddock, green with the ribbonwood grove once,
Until that fire went through; don’t you remember, next morning,
The pitiful, poor black ruin, and how I sat down and cried? But
You—you sow’d it with grass-seed, you turn’d the ruin to riches!
For the blessed Earth-law work’d on, and now, see Jetty and Jewel!
They know where the best grass grows!
“Even so, dear heart, with this ruin
Handle and do! Plough it deep, and harrow it—yes, let Contrition
Bite!—but never stop there! Instantly sow it, with courage
To be and to bear, for yourself, and O, with help and compassion
For the rest who suffer from sin! (Ay, the need and sorrow of sinners
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