OH! miserable power 
To dreams allow'd, to raise the guilty past, 
And back awhile the illumined spirit to cast 
 On its youth's twilight hour; 
In mockery guiling it to act again 
The revel or the scoff in Satan's frantic train! 

 Nay, hush thee, angry heart! 
An Angel's grief ill fits a penitent; 
Welcome the thorn?it is divinely sent, 
 And with its wholesome smart 
Shall pierce thee in thy virtue's palmy home, 
And warn thee what thou art, and whence thy
 wealth has come.