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
