I. Lord of the World, whose Pow'r is known Through Heav'n and Earth, and Air and Sea; Look down with Pity from thy Throne, And hear the Vows we make to thee;
II. Preserve the Dame for whom we mourn, For whom we shed these tender Tears; O! let her wonted Strength return, And with her Strength increase her Years.
III. See! prostrate on the Couch she lies; Around the pious Poor complain; For what to her thy Hand supplies, To them she freely gives again.
IV. If therefore she should yield her Breath, How will the pious Poor lament? And still be poorer by the Death Of her who did their Wants prevent.
V Spare then her Life; 'tis all we ask; Nor suffer Fate to strike her now; 'Twill be for us too hard a Task To live without her here below.