While his is bowed with care.
If I go free, and sound, and stout,
While his poor fetters clank,
Unsated still, I'll still cry out,
And plead with Whom I thank.
Almighty, thou who Father be
Of him, of me, of all,
Draw us together, him and me,
That, whichsoever fall,
The other's hand may fail him not—