Have mercy, Lord; I've lost, amid my pain,Thy love's confiding—where is certainty?
It melted in the cup of tears and woe,My heart grown humble to my inner cry.
Since mother left, this fate hath been my own,I wake and sleep in orphan's garb alone.
I yearn for her, my spirit borne away,There lies my grief—I shed the tear that stray.
How oft I mourned the orphan in his plight,How oft returned from graves with sorrow's weight.
How sorrow from his suffering pierced my breast,And from these gardens I took leave to rest.
Yet peace at last hath pierced my heart anew,My life grown gentle from the faith I knew.
Like the white rose refreshed by morning dew,That spreads its fragrance on the wind anew.
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