To end all in a plunge that would bring a relief;
From the tense agony and the painful delay
Of a hope against hope through the night and the day;
For although it is true, there is hope while there’s breath,
Still some rush to death while the end is but death,
As though anguish of thought finds its only surcease
To yield quickly to death and its certain release.
Lord, help us and save us; we ask for no crown,
But we do want the house till the flood shall go down.