Desertion. Ps. 25. 16, 17; 69. 1, 2; 143. 4

J. Hart         112th

Deep in a cold, a joyless cell,
 A doleful gulf of gloomy care,
 Where dismal doubts and darkness dwell,
 The dangerous brink of black despair;
 Chilled by the icy damps of death,
 I feel no firm support of faith.

[How can a burdened cripple rise?
 How can a fettered captive flee?
 Ah! Lord, direct my wishful eyes,
 And let me look, at least, to thee.
 Alas! my sinking spirits droop;
 I scarce perceive a glimpse of hope.]

Extend thy mercy, gracious God;
 Thy quickening Spirit vouchsafe to send;
 Apply the reconciling blood,
 And kindly call thy foe thy friend;
 Or, if rich cordials thou deny,
 Let patience comfort’s place supply.

Let hope survive, though damped by doubt;
 Do thou defend my battered shield;
 O let me never quite give out;
 Help me to keep the bloody field;
 Lord, look upon the unequal strife;
 Delay not, lest I lose my life.

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