34.
The Prisoner.
1 WHEN the poor pris ner, through a grate,
Sees others walk at large,
How does he mourn his lonely state,
And long for a discharge !
2 Thus I, confined in unbelief,
My loss of freedom mourn ;
And spend my hours in fruitless grief
Untill my Lord return.
3 The beam of day, which pierces through
The gloom in which I dwell,
Only discloses to my view
The horrors of my cell.
4 Ah ! how my pensive spirit faints
To think of former days !
When I could triumph with the saints,
And join their songs of praise!
5 But now my joys are all cut off,
In prison 1 am cast;
And Satan, with a cruel scoff,
Says, "Where s your God at last?"
6 Dear Saviour, for thy mercy s sake,
My strong, my only plea,
These gates and bars in pieces break,
And set the pris ner free! ,
7 Surely my soul shall sing to thee,
For liberty restored;
And all thy saints admire to see
The mercies of the Lord.
35.
Perplexity Relieved.
1 UNCERTAIN how the way to find
Which to salvation led,
I listen d long, with anxious mind,
To hear what others said.
