She rocked back and forth with tears,
Her lips pressed by her palms,
Mercy and calm, mercy and calm,
But no one was there to hear.
No one was there to dry her tears,
Consoled by half remembered psalms,
When she prayed for mercy and calm,
Trembling with terrible fear.
What happened to the happy years?
She asked and pressed her palms,
Praying only for mercy and calm,
Why doesn't anyone hear?
Year slowly passed to year, to year,
Every night a prayer for mercy and calm,
Hands clasped tight, hard pressed palms,
And slowly she gave way to fear.
On a morning crisp and clear,
Her face was mercifully calm,
Voices rang out with beautiful psalms,
Many hands pressed to her heart, dear.
And those who now remember her dear
Those who pray with sweet pressed palms,
Remember her with mercy and calm,
Remember many happy years.
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