Quantity of Mercy

Standard

The quantity of mercy

Can be strained so much

There’s none to touch

With balm the lips of those who thirst

Ever fervent for that drink divine

Which never droppeth gentle

As a rain from heavens grace

The frightful face of it

Is wrung wretched from a twisting heart

Violence in resistance turned

Churning in conflicted strife

Till loosed and shook from folds

Its hold where it hid to fall

Creeping in seeking cover

From its shameful need

To withhold itself

In preservation of what was lost

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