Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/123

 Not with fine gold for a payment, But with coin of sighs, But with rending of raiment And with weeping of eyes, But with shame of stricken faces And with strewing of dust, For the sin of stately places And lordship of lust;

With voices of men made lowly, Made empty of song, O Lord God most holy, O God most strong, We reach out hands to reach thee Ere the wine-press be trod; We beseech thee, O Lord, we beseech thee, O Lord our God.

In that hour thou shalt say to the night, Come down and cover us; To the cloud on thy left and thy right, Be thou spread over us; A snare shall be as thy mother, And a curse thy bride; Thou shalt put her away, and another Shall lie by thy side.