I have, Oh Lord, done everything I can.
Diplomacy, strategy, all my
Wits conceived I placed in proper plan.
But still 'tis not enough. For lo, not by
My hand shall I be saved. For here I strive
Against a foe whose power dwarfs my own.
As thunder to the frightened infant's cry
His strength to mine. God of the standing stone
I sanctified to mark where glory shone,
Please heed this desperate plea in depths of night!
In trembling fear I come to you, alone,
To beg for your salvation from this fight.
For though my wives and children look to me,
Oh Dread of Isaac, true hope comes from thee.