XXIII

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XXIII

The Brand of Cain

I bear upon my brow the sign

Of sorrow and of pain;

Alas! no hopeful cross is mine,

It is the brand of Cain.

The course of passion, and the fret

Of godless hope and fear⁠—

Toil, care, and guilt⁠—their hues have set,

And fix’d their sternness there.

Saviour! wash out the imprinted shame;

That I no more may pine,

Sin’s martyr, though not meet to claim

Thy cross, a saint of Thine.