Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/108

96 Has the Merciful tired of His mercy,
 * And turned from thy sinning in wrath,

That the world with raised hands sees and pities Thy desolate daughters, thy cities,
 * Despoiled on their path?

One year since thy youngest was stricken:
 * Thy eldest lies stricken to-day.

Ah! God, was thy wrath without pity, To tear the strong heart from our city,
 * And cast it away?

O Father! forgive us our doubting;
 * The stain from our weak souls efface;

Thou rebukest, we know, but to chasten; Thy hand has but fallen to hasten
 * Return to thy grace.

Let us rise purified from our ashes
 * As sinners have risen who grieved;

Let us show that twice-sent desolation On every true heart in the nation
 * Has conquest achieved.