Lament XIX → ← Lament XVII

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Jan KochanowskiLamentsLament XVIIItłum. Dorothea Prall

We are thy thankless children, gracious Lord.

The good thou dost afford

Lightly do we employ,

All careless of the one who giveth joy.

We heed not him from whom delights do flow.

Until they fade and go

We take no thought to render

That gratitude we owe the bounteous sender.

Yet keep us in thy care. Let not our pride

Cause thee, dear God, to hide

The glory of thy beauty:

Chasten us till we shall recall our duty.

Yet punish us as with a father's hand.

We mites, cannot withstand

Thine anger; we are snow,

Thy wrath, the sun that melts us in its glow.

Make us not perish thus, eternal God,

From thy too heavy rod.

Recall that thy disdain

Alone doth give thy children bitter pain.

Yet I do know thy mercy doth abound

While yet the spheres turn round,

And thou wilt never cast

Without the man who humbles him at last.

Though great and many my transgressions are,

Thy goodness greater far

Than mine iniquity:

Lord, manifest thy mercy unto me!