NICOLAS Persecution sprang upon our Church 
And stilled its voice.
Eight barren years it stifled under [bad word]  
And I lay bound, condemned to celebrate
My lonely sacrament with prison bread, 
While wolves ran loose among my flock.
O man! the world is set for you as for a king! 
Paradise is yours in loveliness.
The stars shine down for you, for you the angels sing, 
Yet you prefer your wilderness.
You hug the rack of self, 
Embrace the lash of sin,
Pour your treasures out to bribe distress.
You build your temples fair without and foul within: 
You cultivate your wilderness.
Yet Christ is yours. Yours! 
For you He lived and died.
God in mercy gave His son to bless you all, 
To bring you life,
And Him you [bad word] 
To desecrate your wilderness. 
Turn away from sin! Ah! bow
Down your hard and stubborn hearts! 
Confess, yourselves to Him in penitence
And humbly vow your lives to Him, to holiness.