1 Thou God of love, thou ever blest,
Pity my suff'ring state;
When wilt thou set my soul at rest,
From lips that love deceit?

2 Hard lot of mine! My days are cast,
Among the sons of strife,
Whose never ceasing quarrels waste
My golden hours of life.

3 Oh might I fly to change my place,
How would I choose to dwell
In some wide lonesome wilderness,
And leave these gates of hell!

4 Peace is the blessing that I seek,
How lovely are its charms!
I am for peace; but when I speak,
They all declare for arms.

5 New passions still their souls engage,
And keep their malice strong:
What shall be done to curb thy rage,
O thou devouring tongue!

6 Should burning arrows smite thee thro'
Strict justice would approve;
But I would rather spare my foe,
And melt his heart with love.