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Alace ! I think the mothers were woe, The mothers were woe, it was great skill: What motherly pain To see them slain
In cradles lying still !
But God Himself hath them elect, Hath them elect, in heaven to dwell : For they were bathed in their blood, For their Baptism forsooth it stood In Israel.
Alace ! again what hearts had they, What hearts had they those babes to kill! With swords when they them caught, In cr?dles they lay and laught, And never thought ilL