human
O mother, come out to me. Why should he call me to-night, when he knows that I cannot go? For the downs are as bright as day, and the full moon stares at the snow. We should be seen, my dear; they would spy us out of the town. The loud black nights for us, and the storm rushing over the down, When I cannot see my own hand, but am led by the creak of the chain, And grovel and grope for my son, till I find myself drenched with the rain. Anything fallen again? Nay—what was there left to fall? I have taken them home, I have number'd the bones, I have hidden them all. They would scratch him up—they would hang him again on the cursed tree. Sin? O yes—we are sinners, I know—let all that be, And read me a Bible verse of the Lord's good-will towards men—
gpt
Full of compassion and mercy, the Lord —let me hear it again;
human
Full of compassion and mercy—long-suffering.