SELECT POETRY.
THE OLD, OLD STORY. VThere goes a woman, who loving too much, Nofchiehow or other in time became Piebald with patches of soob and smutch, I With blotches of sin and shame ; Jr Yet I think, by the piteous look in her «yes 0 (Have 3'qu seen the eyes of a hunted doe ?) That down in her heart she moans and cries With unutterable woe. There goes a bpvy of Christians ! See How clean .and comely and sleek and fair, And unto the ultimata degree How proper and prim they are. Ha ! They have caught a glimpse of her skirts ; (How keen they are «n the scent for sin !) And the hound in the heart of each asserts Itself —and the pack begin J Bravely, my mastiffs ! handsomely done j What to you is her awful stress ? Finish the work you've so well begun— No quarter to wickedness ! Yet I swear, O excellent Pharisees* Howe'er proud may be your position, As sure as the Saviour above us is, You're nearer than she to perdition.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TT18700226.2.28
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Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 107, 26 February 1870, Page 7
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176SELECT POETRY. Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 107, 26 February 1870, Page 7
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