O Lord, look down from Heaven, behold
And let Thy pity waken:
How few are we within Thy fold,
Thy saints by men forsaken!
True faith seems quenched on every hand,
Men suffer not Thy Word to stand;
Dark times have us oâ€™ertaken.
With fraud which they themselves invent
Thy truth they have confounded;
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem