We plead for helpless infancy,
Who wrong have never done.
Shall cradled infants feel the stroke,
Shall they endure the heavy yoke?
Have pity, Lord! oh, tender heart!
What heavy sighs, what bitter smart,
From our sad hearts are wrung!
No stone, our Saviour God art Thou,
How canst Thou so afflict us now?
How grievous are our wounds and sore,