Of any fight the world knew not
How great the perils often grew--
God only knew.
Within my deepest soul-depths torn,
In hands and feet wounds bleeding borne,
Trodden beneath the chargers' tread,
How I endured, felt, suffered, bled,
How wept and groaned I in my woe,
When scoffed the malice-breathing foe,
How pierced his scorn my spirit through,