89. Reverence I BOW at Jesu's name, for 'tis the Sign Of awful mercy towards a guilty line. Of shameful ancestry, in birth defiled, And upwards from a child Full of unlovely thoughts and rebel aims And scorn of judgment-flames, How without fear can I behold my Life, The Just assailing sin, and death-stain'd in the strife? And so, albeit His woe is our release, Thought of that woe aye dims our earthly peace; The Life is hidden in a Fount of Blood! And this is tidings good For souls, who, pierced that they have caused that woe, Are fain to share it too: But for the many, clinging to their lot Of worldly ease and sloth, 'tis written "Touch Me not." Off Monte Pelegrino. June 14, 1833