O’er the couch of his son, the father is bending;
While his tears, with those of his mother are blending,
And his agonized cry to the Infinite One—
Is, “spare me, oh Father, my idolized son!
Spare the life which so closely entwines round my heart!
My son! oh my son! from thee must I part?
The hope of my future—my pride and my joy!
Oh, what would life be, if bereft of my boy?”
While in anguish these parents thus plead for their son,
A voice whispers to them “Let God’s will be done.”