O God Of Battles! Steel My Soldiers’

A Wretched Soul, Bruised With Adversity, We Bid Be Quiet When We Hear It Cry. But Were We Burd'ned With Like Weight Of Pain, As Much Or More We Should Ourselves Complain: So Thou, That Hast No Unkind Mate To Grieve Thee, With Urging Helpless Patience Wouldst Relieve Me; But If Thou Live To See Like Right Bereft, This Fool-begged Patience In Thee Will Be Left.

Which Can Say More Than This Rich Praise, That You Alone Are You?

He Is Not Worthy Of The Honey-comb, That Shuns The Hives Because The Bees Have Stings.

If You Have Tears, Prepare To Shed Them Now.

Woah Is Me To Have Seen What I Seen See What I See