How often the slave will rebel
Only to turn and flee
Back to the master knowing well
The lie within his plea.
How often we say the word repent
While meaning no such thing
Instead closer to what we meant
Would be “Spare us, Kind King!”
And yet in grace we roam the Earth
If but a little while
And busy ourselves with such mirth
As we can so beguile.
But if we knew it for its worth
We might think amnesty our dearth.