Classic Poem

O Lord , if ever of Thy Spouse forlorn
Thy mercy heard the loud and bitter cry,
Then loudest, when in silent agony
She pleads her children's hate, her subjects' scorn,
Now be that hour: now pride, that all would know,
Proclaims Thee Saviour, but obeys Thy foe.
Ere love's one relic crumble quite away,
Ere, as we scorn to fast, we cease to pray,
Spare us, good Lord: speak out once more
The word that wrought Thy work of yore,
“Sell all, and all forsake; and trust
The Cross for treasure: God is just.”