 | Sacra Poesis |  |
CONFESSION.
O Lord, that art dwelling,
The Ancient of days,
'Mid seraphs excelling
To herald thy praise,—
Alas! I have broken
Thy mandates of love:
Yet shew me some token
Of peace from above!
The Ancient of days,
'Mid seraphs excelling
To herald thy praise,—
Alas! I have broken
Thy mandates of love:
Yet shew me some token
Of peace from above!
With the bright robe of gladness,
O, gird me around!
I wander in sadness,
Chained and bound.
Yet, Lord, thou hast spoken;
The captive shall prove
His fetters are broken
By mercy and love.
O, gird me around!
I wander in sadness,
Chained and bound.
18
The captive shall prove
His fetters are broken
By mercy and love.
Saviour! hear a sinner pray;
Turn me, turn me not away!
Turn me, turn me not away!
| Sacra Poesis | |