Our King will save!
Wounded and crushed beneath my load I sigh,
Despised and abject, outcast, trampled low;
How long, O Lord, shall I of violence cry,
My heart dissolve with woe?
How many years without a gleam of light
Has thraldom been our lot, our portion pain?
With Ishmael[28] as a lion in his might,
And Persia as an owl of darksome night,
Beset on either side, behold our plight