_De Profundis_

Lord, from this prison-house that we have built, This dark abode of pain and misery, Failure and guilt, We stretch our hands, we stretch our hands to Thee, Lord, set us free.

O Lord, Thou knowest all--Thou knowest well The groping hands, the eyes that would not see, The feet that fell; Yet are we fain--are fain to come to Thee, Lord, set us free.

Bitter the chains that we have borne so long, The chains of sin we wove so heedlessly; Lo, Thou art strong, Out of the deeps we cry--we cry to Thee, Lord, set us free.