Convalescent, truth in love was shownSince I have lived each groaning moan;
I saw life's lights as though they gleamedTo stifle whispers finely dreamed;
Toward parents — God's commandment clear —O Lord, where is that verse sincere?
No difference between the son who drainsOur blood, and him whom murder stains;
Our sons need stern austerity,Kept far from pleasure's luxury;
Kept far from what would stir their pride,Their conscience fortress against the tide;
Youth strayed save few — for they adoredBase coin, the meanest cravings stored;
O Lord, fortify the soul I prayWith ramparts against curses' sway;
O Lord, lift every veil from sight,That he may see pure goals aright.