By A Collection of Hymns

      L.M.
      1 O LET the prisoners' mournful cries
      As incense in thy sight appear!
      Their humble wailings pierce the skies,
      If haply they may feel thee near.

      2 The captive exiles make their moans,
      From sin impatient to be free:
      Call home, call home thy banished ones!
      Lead captive their captivity!

      3 Show them the blood that bought their peace,
      The anchor of their steadfast hope;
      And bid their guilty terrors cease,
      And bring the ransomed prisoners up.

      4 Out of the deep regard their cries,
      The fallen raise, the mourners cheer;
      O Sun of righteousness, arise,
      And scatter all their doubt and fear!

      5 Pity the day of feeble things;
      O gather every halting soul!
      And drop salvation from thy wings,
      And make the contrite sinner whole.

      6 Stand by them in the fiery hour,
      Their feebleness of mind defend;
      And in their weakness show thy power,
      And make them patient to the end.

      7 O satisfy their soul in drought!
      Give them thy saving health to see;
      And let thy mercy find them out;
      And let thy mercy reach to me.