Tempests rising in contralto's wing,
a voice that costs me all I am
is sin's and its resolve, the tool of men
that wielding hold Faith's honor in their fling!
And that I see this scourge in one I love
I can't but risk my Spirit through this drove,
of narrowing my space, the conscience less
as when I ask for truth am given stress!
But of my life hereon this Earth I gain
but sufferance cure a trust with thee remain
as giving all of self to thy abstain
I find your Soul in Him, my love ...again!