Not silent, like the secret thief,
But trumpet-tongued, rebellion raised,
And filled my house with guilt and grief.
Then, since my blood denies my cause,
And since my friends desert and flee,—
Since they are gone, who should have stood
Between the guilty blow and me,—
To thee I bend, my Saviour Lord,
To thee, the Virgin Mother, bow,
For your support and gracious help