Our Singing Country

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Our Singing Country
i There was a Romish lady brought up in popery, Her mother always taught her the priest she must obey; "Oh, pardon me, dear mother, I humbly pray thee now, For unto these false idols I can no longer bow."
2  Assisted by her handmaid, a Bible she conceaPd,
And there she gain'd instruction, till God his love reveaPd. No more she prostrates herself to pictures deck'd with gold, But soon she was betray'd, and her Bible from her stole.
3  "Pll bow to my dear Jesus, I'll worship God unseen, HI live by faith forever, the works of men are vain; I cannot worship angels, nor pictures made by men, Dear mother, use your pleasure, but pardon if you can."
4  With grief and great vexation, her mother straight did go, To inform the Roman clergy the cause of all her woe; The priests were soon assembled, and for the maid did call, And forc'd her in the dungeon, to fight her soul withal.
5  The more they strove to fright her, the more she did endure, Although her age was tender, her faith was strong and sure; The chains of gold so costly they from this lady took,
And she with all her spirits the pride of life forsook.
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