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The Dies Iræ.
12.
Culprit-like I plead, heart-broken,
On my cheek ſhame's crimſon token:
Let the pardoning word be ſpoken!
13.
Thou who Mary gav'ſt remiſſion,
Heard'ſt the dying thief's petition,
Cheer'ſt with hope my loſt condition,
14.
Though my prayers be void of merit,
What is needful, Thou confer it,
Leſt I endleſs fire inherit!
15.
Be there, Lord, my place decided
With Thy ſheep, from goats divided,
Kindly to Thy right hand guided!
