O God of righteousness and truth,

Loving to all, and full of ruth;

I have some matter for Thine ear

If Thou wilt but Thy servant hear.

Lo, how the world afflicteth us

With wrongs and torments rancorous;

And Thou dost pardon every one,

But turnest from our woes alone.

Lord, Thou wilt not avenge our wrong

Nor chase the ills that round us throng;

Thou knowest, we are flesh and bone,

We are not statues made from stone!

We are not made of grass or reeds,

That Thou consumest us like weeds;—

As though we were some thorny field

Or brushwood, that the forests yield.

If that ourselves are nothing worth—

If we have wrought no good on earth,

If we are hateful in Thy sight

That Thou shouldst leave us in this plight—

Then blot us out;—be swift and brief,

That Thy pure heart may find relief;

This well may be, by Thy intent,

Great Lord and good, omnipotent.

How long must we in patience wait

And bear unmurmuringly our fate?

Let evil ones be swept away

And those whom Thou dost favour, stay!