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 And molten in red flames of love Were swords and many monstrous things; And shields were lowered, and snapt were spears, And sweeter-tuned the clamorous years; And faith came back, and peace, that were Fled; for she bade, saying, "Thou, God's heir, Hast thou no care?

Lo, men lay waste thine heritage Still, and much heathen people rage Against thee, and devise vain things. What comfort in the face of kings, What counsel is there? Turn thine eyes And thine heart from them in like wise; Turn thee unto thine holy place To help us that of God for grace Require thy face.

For who shall hear us if not thou In a strange land? what doest thou there? Thy sheep are spoiled, and the ploughers plough Upon us; why hast thou no care For all this, and beyond strange hills Liest unregardful what snow chills Thy foldless flock, or what rains beat? Lo, in thine ears, before thy feet, Thy lost sheep bleat.