Avenge, O Lord, Thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold Ev'n them who kept Thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, Forget not In Thy book record their groans Who were Thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piemontese that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills, and they To Heav'n. Their martyred blood and ashes sow O'er all th' Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple tyrant that from these may grow A hundred-fold, who having learned Thy way Early may fly the Babylonian woe.
Quotes about hundred-fold (2 Quotes)
It accelerated everything a hundred-fold. There are things that we have put into place today that we'd still just be considering, but that made us realize that we couldn't afford to have that happen again.