The Lord hath sent me here to you,
For he hath seen that you are few;
His eyes have seen your sad decay,
How fast you aged from day to day;
The hand of vengeance did relent,
The eye of Justice softer grew,
Repenting of his stern intent,
The Lord hath brought me here to you.
Thus spake the Lord unto me: Lo,
This burden I no more can bear;
Wring from their heart a groan of woe,
Force also from their eye a tear;
And heavy be the tear and bitter,
And thund'rous be their final groan,
That earth shall shake, and at her quake
The evil powers be overthrown.
Obedient, I rose and went,
My path was strewn with many stones;
One thought, one feeling urged me on,
And deeply burned within my bones:
That you by brutish breasts were rent
With no one to relieve your groans.
I want to help you to be freed,
I thought you were in fearful need;
The Lord hath burdened me with heart
Which unto others' torture turneth,
That suffers for another's smart,
In everyone's Gehanna burneth!
I heard you were consumed with fear,
And thought you knew and trembling, stayed,
Waiting, choking with your tear,
And pleading consolation, aid.
My thoughts, my footsteps lead to you,
I come, I come your wounds to heal,
And I will suffer, bleed with you,
My pain shall equal your ordeal!
And where there's need my tongue shall lick
The blood which from your wounds doth flow;
I'll wake the strong, revive the sick,
Your bondage and your chains shall go.
I come, I come! Be you at rest,
A hope of vengeance I do bear;
From God with spirit I am blest,
You shall not fall in your despair!
With strength my frame the Lord hath fired
Which uproots hills and is not tired;
A tongue the Lord hath given me,
Like a razor-edge and free;
If you are stone, then it is iron,
If you are iron, it is steel,
I'll come and show my face, and lo,
Together you will rise with zeal!
And now before your door I stand;
My language from my lips has fled;
The night hath touched me with its hand,
My light, my spark is cold and dead!
For when I came, you did deride,
And I was met with scorn and shame,
The hand of God is thrust aside,
And ridiculed the Sacred Name!
I have no further words for you,
The word of God is dead to you;
I spoke a word — as though the wind
Had borne it off that word did pass;
Another word I spoke — it fell
Like a dew-drop on the grass.
But oh, the grass did turn, be'ng dry,
To ashes as though from a spark.
Then uttered I a bitter cry
That like a bullet made its mark,
And like the thunder crashed its way
Upon that splendid summer day
Unto your hearts — and did not fail.
And then broke from your lips a wail,
And then your tear rolled from your eye!
But woe is me! your tears are false!
Who will believe your weeping — who?
Not God, not I, not even you!
For he hath seen that you are few;
His eyes have seen your sad decay,
How fast you aged from day to day;
The hand of vengeance did relent,
The eye of Justice softer grew,
Repenting of his stern intent,
The Lord hath brought me here to you.
Thus spake the Lord unto me: Lo,
This burden I no more can bear;
Wring from their heart a groan of woe,
Force also from their eye a tear;
And heavy be the tear and bitter,
And thund'rous be their final groan,
That earth shall shake, and at her quake
The evil powers be overthrown.
Obedient, I rose and went,
My path was strewn with many stones;
One thought, one feeling urged me on,
And deeply burned within my bones:
That you by brutish breasts were rent
With no one to relieve your groans.
I want to help you to be freed,
I thought you were in fearful need;
The Lord hath burdened me with heart
Which unto others' torture turneth,
That suffers for another's smart,
In everyone's Gehanna burneth!
I heard you were consumed with fear,
And thought you knew and trembling, stayed,
Waiting, choking with your tear,
And pleading consolation, aid.
My thoughts, my footsteps lead to you,
I come, I come your wounds to heal,
And I will suffer, bleed with you,
My pain shall equal your ordeal!
And where there's need my tongue shall lick
The blood which from your wounds doth flow;
I'll wake the strong, revive the sick,
Your bondage and your chains shall go.
I come, I come! Be you at rest,
A hope of vengeance I do bear;
From God with spirit I am blest,
You shall not fall in your despair!
With strength my frame the Lord hath fired
Which uproots hills and is not tired;
A tongue the Lord hath given me,
Like a razor-edge and free;
If you are stone, then it is iron,
If you are iron, it is steel,
I'll come and show my face, and lo,
Together you will rise with zeal!
And now before your door I stand;
My language from my lips has fled;
The night hath touched me with its hand,
My light, my spark is cold and dead!
For when I came, you did deride,
And I was met with scorn and shame,
The hand of God is thrust aside,
And ridiculed the Sacred Name!
I have no further words for you,
The word of God is dead to you;
I spoke a word — as though the wind
Had borne it off that word did pass;
Another word I spoke — it fell
Like a dew-drop on the grass.
But oh, the grass did turn, be'ng dry,
To ashes as though from a spark.
Then uttered I a bitter cry
That like a bullet made its mark,
And like the thunder crashed its way
Upon that splendid summer day
Unto your hearts — and did not fail.
And then broke from your lips a wail,
And then your tear rolled from your eye!
But woe is me! your tears are false!
Who will believe your weeping — who?
Not God, not I, not even you!