The Scars of Sin

My smile is bright, my glance is free, My voice is calm and clear; Dear friend, I seem a type to thee Of holy love and fear.

But I am scann’d by eyes unseen, And these no saint surround; They mete what is by what has been, And joy the lost is found.

Erst my good Angel shrank to see My thoughts and ways of ill; And now he scarce dare gaze on me, Scar-seam’d and crippled still.