1.

To God I cried, with anguish stung,
Nor form'd a fruitless pray'r.
O save me from the lying tongue,
And lips that would insnare.

2.

Thou Child of Guilt, to falsehood bred,
Say, what shall be thine end?
See keenest arrows o'er thy head,
And quenchless coals, impend.

3.

Ah! Woe is Me, to Mesech 's seat
And Kedar 's tents confin'd;
Perpetual insult doom'd to meet
From Men of restless mind.

4.

When offers mild of Peace I make,
And friendliest terms prepare,
My words their slumb'ring rage awake,
And arm them for the War.