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The Dies Iræ.
12.
Surrounded with amazing fears,
Whoſe load my ſoul with anguiſh bears,
I ſigh, I weep! accept my tears!
13.
Thou who wert moved with Mary's grief,
And by abſolving of the thief
Haſt given me hope, now give relief!
14.
Reject not my unworthy prayer;
Preſerve me from the dangerous ſnare
Which death and gaping hell prepare.
15.
Give my exalted ſoul a place
Among Thy choſen right-hand race,
The ſons of God and heirs of grace.
