Maybe my soul fell from its high estate, Alone, without or counsellor or guide, To make me pitiful toward the fate Of others and not scornful in my pride. Beneath what banner may I strive aright And triumph save 'neath Thine which hath my love ? I fear to perish in the clam'rous fight, Do Thou from me Thy saving strength remove. O may Thy body, blood and cross, Thy last End and its bitterness bear sin away In which I and my fathers first drew breath ! Upon Thy mercy all my hopes are cast, Forgive my sorry trespasses, I pray, Who am so far from God, so near to death |