Lord God of Cities, how long must we wait

Bound in our Babylons of tawdry sin;

Hast Thou so many other stars to win,

Is greed of conquest so insatiate?

Or does Omnipotence design to take

Example from the flaws of childhood's years,

And what of folly in Thy work appears

Thou studiest for newer worlds' sweet sake?

Nay, Thou art shamed of Thy first dwelling-place,

And we are wearied; neither of us know

How we may remedy Thy fault, and so

With slow tired hands Thou coverest Thy face.

Poor Man! foredoomed to spurn such love as this!

Sad God! what grief to make a world amiss!