Though Lord Our Hands Have Not Been Stai
Tho’, Lord, our hands have not been stain’d
With human blood, by thee restrain’d,
Yet O what seeds of murder wrought
In each revengeful word or thought!
Condemen’d, we fall before thy face,
Our only refuge is thy grace;
O wash our souls from ev’ry sin,
And make our guilty conscience clean.
Let clamour, wrath and war begone,
Let bitter words no more be known;
Envy and spite forever cease,
Among the saints, the sons of peace.