To-night, as Heaven hath willed, have come thy way
Poor folk with meagre speech yet much to say.
So, if word lack, let thine own wisdom fill:
And—give me countenance!—I’ll not speak ill.
Dear Mother, pray for us! Foolish we be,
Untaught and rude: but what we see we see,
And what we hear we hear; to what’s above
Our heads we bow: and what we love we love!
And, loving thee since our first entrance in,
Do thereby more love God, and more hate sin;