My wound hath no amend.

O’erwhelmed, my helm doth fail, no hand is strong

To steer the bark to port, her longed-for aim.

How long, O Lord, wilt Thou my doom prolong?

When shall be heard the Dove’s[27] sweet voice of song?

O leave us not to perish for our wrong,

Who bear Thy Name!

Wherefore wilt Thou forget us, Lord, for aye?

Mercy we crave!

O Lord, we hope in Thee alway,