On The Eleventh Psalm

Merciful God, how few Good folk remain on earth. Behold, each one in heart Is setting snares for another. But with fine words, And lips honey-sweet They kiss—and wait To see how soon Their brother to his grave Will find his way.

But Thou who art Lord alone Shuttest up the evil lips, That great-speaking tongue That says:— “No trifling thing are we, How glorious shall we show In intellect and speech. Who is that Lord that will forbid Our thoughts and words?”

Yea, the Lord shall say to Thee “I shall arise, this day On their behalf— People of mine in chains, The poor and humble ones These will I glorify. Little, dumb and slaves are they, Yet on guard about them Will I set my Word.”

Like trampled grass Shall perish your thoughts And words alike.

Like silver, hammered, beaten, Seven times melted o’er the fire, Are thy words, Oh Lord. Scatter these holy words of Thine, O’er all the earth, That Thy children little and poor May believe in miracles on earth.

PRAYER I.

To Tsars and kings who tax the world, Send dollars and ducats, And fetters well-forged.

To toiling heads and toiling hands, Laboring on these stolen lands Endurance and strength.

To me, my God, on this sad earth, Give me but love, the heart’s paradise And nothing more.

PRAYER II.

My prayer for the Tsars, These traffickers in blood, That Thou on them would’st put Fetters of iron, in dungeons deep.

My prayer for the peoples toiling long, Do Thou to them on their ravaged lands, Send down Thy strength most merciful One. And for the pure in heart Grant angel guards beside them, To keep them pure.

And for myself, Oh Lord, I ask nought else But truth on earth to love, And one true friend to love me.

PRAYER III.

For those that have done wrong to me, No longer do I fetters ask, Nor dungeons deep.

For hands that faithful toil for good Send Thy instructions’ gracious aid, And Holy strength.

For tender ones, the pure in heart Do Thou, Oh God, their virtue save With angel’s guard.

For all Thy children on this earth May they Thy wisdom know alike, In brother love.

PRAYER IV.

To those of the ever-greedy eyes, Gods of earth, the Tsars, Are the ploughs and the ships, And all good things of earth For these little gods.

To toiling hands, To toiling brains Is given to plough the barren field, To think, to sow, and take no rest And reap the fields anon. Such the reward of toiling hands.

For the true-hearted lowly ones, Peace-loving saints, Oh, Creator of heaven and earth, Give long life on earth, And paradise beyond.

All good things of earth Are for these gods, the Tsars, Ploughs and ships, All wealth of earth For us—good luck! Is left to love our brothers.