Seeing the troubles that fill the earth
He bestows upon them no rage
Love He shows not to His created
Who die daily of hope's unfriendliness
On them the battle of life holds well its grip
This they have blamed on the Maker's choice
Death has come is their precious thought
Defeat at last being their lovely hymn
How the mortals question the Immortal
When the world puts on not her usual smile
Has He stopped to be good?
Has God stopped to be God?