Miserere

Be pitiful, oh God! the night is long, My soul is faint with watching for the light, And still the gloom and doubt of seven-fold night Hangs heavy on my spirit: Thou art strong.— Pity me, oh my God! I stretch my hands through darkness up to Thee,— The stars are shrouded, and the night is dumb; There is no earthly help,—to Thee I come In all my helplessness and misery,— Pity me, oh my God! Be pitiful, oh God!—for I am weak, And all my paths are rough, and hedged about,— Hold Thou my hand dear Lord, and lead me out, And bring me to the city which I seek,— Pity me, oh my God! By the temptation which Thou didst endure, And by Thy fasting and Thy midnight prayer, Jesu! let me not utterly despair; Oh! hide me in the Rock from ill secure,— Pity me, oh my God! Mine eyes run down with tears that do not cease; Oh! when beyond the river dark and cold, Shall I the white walls of my home behold,— The shining palaces—the streets of gold,— And enter through the gates the City of Peace,— Pity me, oh my God!