though I
would
speak to
thee the
wholenight
through,
in pain I
do make
brief; for
well I
know that
in that
High
Beyond
this voice
of mine
can hold
no charm.
But now
again of
thee I
fain would
ask: that
in this
hour of
darkest
night
anewer
blessing
thou wilt
give to
all that
work in
arts of
thine;
bless them
that
harvest in
the
fields,
bless thou
the
silkworms’
rounded
home,
bless them
that toil
at factory
loom,
bless them

















