No strength retained it now to pray,
While Faith and Hope had fled away
And ill that mourner now had fared,
Thus by the Tempter’s art ensnared,
But that at length beside his bed
His sorrowing Angel stood, and said,—
“Doth it repent thee of thy love,
That never now is heard above
Thy prayer, that now not any more
It knocks at heaven’s gate as before?”