Lord, in the name of so many women who have at their bosoms a little child, and who, poor creatures, moisten the earth and the sheets of their beds with tears;
Lord, in the name of the poor, in the name of the strong, in the name of the dead who shall die for their country, their duty, and their faith;
Lord, for so many defeats, so many tears and woes, for so many towns ravaged, for so much brave, holy blood;
Lord, for so many adversities, for so much mourning throughout our France, for so many insults upon our heads;
IV
Lord, disarm thy justice. Cast down thine eye upon us, and heed the cries of the bruised and wounded!
Lord, if the rebellious cities, through their luxury and folly, have overturned the scale-pan of thy balance, resisting and denying thee;
Lord, before the breath of the Alps, that praiseth God winter and summer, all the trees of the fields, obedient, bow together;
Lord, France and Provence have sinned only through forgetfulness; do thou forgive us our offences, for we repent of the evil of former days.