Air From A Modern Concerto

[Music:

WORDS BY J. ROBY. AIR FROM A MODERN CONCERTO.

Slow.

Father, hear a suppliant's cry; Hear, oh hear, for Thou art nigh. Though the clouds of sorrow rise Darkly o'er these troubled skies; Speak the word, "Let there be light!" Bid the morning chase the night. Father, hear a suppliant's prayer; Darkness flies when Thou art there!]