Page:Songs of exile (IA songsofexile00daviiala).pdf/30

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Surely a limit boundeth every woe,
But mine enduring anguish hath no end;
My grievous years are spent in ceaseless flow,
My wound hath no amend.
O'erwhelmed, my helm doth fail, no hand is strong
To steer the bark to port, her longed-for aim.
How long, O Lord, wilt Thou my doom prolong?
When shall be heard the dove's sweet voice of song?
O leave us not to perish for our wrong,
Who bear Thy Name!

Wherefore wilt Thou forget us, Lord, for aye?
Mercy we crave!
O Lord, we hope in Thee alway,
Our King will save!

Wounded and crushed, beneath my load I sigh,

Despised and abject, outcast, trampled low;