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Rh Gently we live with our brothers now, With their lives our fields we plough; Fields that with their tears are wet, And yet— What do we know?
 * yet it seems as if Thou!

(For without Thy will Should we suffer ill?) Dost Thou, Oh Father in heaven holy Laugh at us the poor and lowly? Advise with them of noble birth How so cleverly, to rule the earth?

For see the woods their branches waving, And there beyond, the white pool gleaming And willows o'er the water bending, Garden of Eden it is in sooth, But of its deeds enquire the truth.

This wondrous earth should tell a story Of endless joy, and praise, and glory To Thee, Oh God, unique and holy. Unhallowed spot, Whence praise comes not! A world of tears where curses rise, To heaven above the hopeless skies.