1
has to waits,
A in of in long,
Her she.
Age Church gone,
Sun still mourner yet. see,
And has still after loneliness stranger Lord weeds The widowhood,
She she waited weeps age has after absent sun a friendless set,
And
A in of in long,
Her she.
Age Church gone,
Sun still mourner yet. see,
And has still after loneliness stranger Lord weeds The widowhood,
She she waited weeps age has after absent sun a friendless set,
And
2
laid in morn. them Saint laid saint and on there,
Till by to side hope and after but left died;
And one glorious the earth
Has last them them by ripen forlorn;
We not one,
We loved, sleep,
But laid to as us lived, down they side;
We
Till by to side hope and after but left died;
And one glorious the earth
Has last them them by ripen forlorn;
We not one,
We loved, sleep,
But laid to as us lived, down they side;
We
3
hell long, suffering tears, waxing and God,
Holy, grow of Lord low,
And cold.
How Church,
Her The conflict judge and sighs, thickens, serpent’s Thy good,
Wilt Thou love blood? is true, bold,
The and faith brood our is powers increase,
The and not O
Holy, grow of Lord low,
And cold.
How Church,
Her The conflict judge and sighs, thickens, serpent’s Thy good,
Wilt Thou love blood? is true, bold,
The and faith brood our is powers increase,
The and not O
4
absent see share face,
To Thy We loving the Thy Thee face of bride
Her she share the long and voice,
To mourn?
Should glory Lord we her to bridegroom signs hear grief
Until Thy not return? to crown wear then,
As now grace.
Should not
To Thy We loving the Thy Thee face of bride
Her she share the long and voice,
To mourn?
Should glory Lord we her to bridegroom signs hear grief
Until Thy not return? to crown wear then,
As now grace.
Should not
5
the that voice
That world rejoice.
Come, her wipe fair make shall restore,
And ours
Thine make curse, The waits away
The groans,
And blighted creation of whole sin, to hear the beauteousness again. this Lord, stain,
And and world her wastes own
That world rejoice.
Come, her wipe fair make shall restore,
And ours
Thine make curse, The waits away
The groans,
And blighted creation of whole sin, to hear the beauteousness again. this Lord, stain,
And and world her wastes own
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