The Choir and The Oratory or Praise and Prayer. By Josiah Conder |
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SOLACE IN EVIL TIMES.
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 | The Choir and The Oratory |  |
SOLACE IN EVIL TIMES.
Psalm xii.
Help, Lord! our hope alone,
Of mortal helpers reft.
The pious dead we moan:
Few now the faithful left.
Man meets his friend with treacherous smile,
With hollow heart and lips of guile.
Of mortal helpers reft.
The pious dead we moan:
Few now the faithful left.
Man meets his friend with treacherous smile,
With hollow heart and lips of guile.
Wo to the lips of guile,
The false and boastful tongue;
To all who seek by wile
And fraud to compass wrong!
“Our lips,” they proudly say, “are free:
Who shall presume our lord to be?”
The false and boastful tongue;
To all who seek by wile
And fraud to compass wrong!
“Our lips,” they proudly say, “are free:
Who shall presume our lord to be?”
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God hears the poor man's sighs,
When by oppression bowed;
And saith, “I will arise
To save him from the proud.”
His promises are sure and tried,
Like silver seven times purified.
When by oppression bowed;
And saith, “I will arise
To save him from the proud.”
His promises are sure and tried,
Like silver seven times purified.
In these dark times, our trust
We still in God repose.
Thou wilt preserve the just,
And guard them from their foes.
What wonder, when the wicked sway,
That vice no longer shuns the day!
We still in God repose.
Thou wilt preserve the just,
And guard them from their foes.
What wonder, when the wicked sway,
That vice no longer shuns the day!
| The Choir and The Oratory | |