The Scars of Sin, by Blessed John Henry Newman

John Henry Newman
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.