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THEY threw me from the gates： my matted hair
Was dank with dungeon1 wetness； my spent frame O‘erlaid with marish agues： everywhere Tortured by leaping pangs2 of frost and flame So hideous3 was I that even Lazarus there In noisome4 rags arrayed and leprous shame Beside me set had seemed full sweet and fair And looked on me with loathing5. But one came Who laid a cloak on me and brought me in Tenderly to an hostel6 quiet and clean； Used me with healing hands for all my needs. The mortal stain of my reputed sin My state despised and my defilèd weeds He hath put by as though they had not been. 点击  收听单词发音
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