Thou God of love, Thou ever blest
Pity my suf­fer­ing state;
When wilt Thou set my soul at rest
From lips that love de­ceit?

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

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

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.

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

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