He oftenest works in despite of Your will.
Ah! You Eternal and You Almighty
Author and Ruler of all creation,
Pity the offspring of Your poor world,
Even this race of men, through Your mighty power.
Why, O God Eternal, grant You ever
That Fate at the will of wicked mortals
Should turn herself on earth so swiftly?
Often to the guiltless great harm she works.
The wicked are seated in worldly kingdoms
Upon their high-seats, trampling the holy
Under their feet; no man may find out
Why Fate falls so foully awry.
So also are hidden here in this world
In many a borough brightest virtues,
Whereas the sinful in every season
Treat most evilly all those others
That are more righteous, to rule more worthy.
False-faced guile long has gone
Wrapt up in wiles. Now here in the world
Oaths basely broken bring no scathe.
If You, O Chieftain, will not check Fate,
But suffer her in self-will to remain,
Then this do I know, that nations will doubt
Far over earth's fields, all but a few.
O my Sovereign, You that see
All worldly creatures, with eyes of kindness
Look on mortals, for they are moiling,
Battling here in the world's billows,
Poor folk of the earth; pity them therefore.
