After Suvla
Now to the stricken doe
And the wounded hind
There comes the Mercy of God
That is cool and kind.

To the hapless creature He made
He giveth rest.
All the woes of the world
Lie on His breast.

The tender Physician giveth
The drug of sleep,
Lest that His dove, His daughter,
Awake and weep.

Beyond all dreams of delight
Is the quiet peace,
He carries His lamb in His arms,
The blood on her fleece.