Her wings o' swiftness vrom their holy flight,
To leäve a heart o' flesh an' blood so cwold
At such a touchèn zight?
An' zoo mid meek-soul'd Pity still
Be zent to check our evil will,
An' keep the helpless soul from woe,
An' hold the hardened heart vrom sin.
Vor they that can but mercy show
Shall all their Father's mercy win."