‘God will have none of such a sinner’s aid.
And I am steeped in sin, from heel to head.
Here shall I serve Him, in this quiet glade,
To all the world’s concerns I am quite dead.
But God the most merciful will never cease
To pour on the repentant grace and peace.
‘And our despoiled land lies like these wilds:
Deserted; there’s no man that I might bring
To war — here a woman, there an orphaned child…
That’s all. A winter harsh stifled our spring.
Perhaps, in future years, some great Moravian
Scion will arise to liberate our nation.’
A deep silence fell then, as Svatoboj’s
Words died away. And for long no one spoke,
Until at last, the three hermits took voice
Again: ‘And yet, indeed there still is hope:
Capable youths develop from orphans,
And faithful mothers form them into
