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The Book of Praise.
Oh ! by all the pains and woe Suffer'd once for man below, Bending from Thy throne on high, Hear our solemn Litany !
By Thy helpless infant years, By Thy life of want and tears, By Thy days of sore distress In the savage wilderness ; By the dread mysterious hour Of the insulting tempter's power; Turn, oh ! turn a favouring eye, Hear our solemn Litany !
By the sacred griefs that wept O'er the grave where Lazarus slept;. By the boding tears that flowed Over Salem's lov'd abode ; By the anguish'd sigh that told Treachery lurk'd within Thy fold ; From Thy seat above the sky, Hear our solemn Litany !
By Thine hour of dire despair ; By Thine agony of prayer ; By the cross, the nail, the thorn, Piercing spear, and torturing scorn ; By the gloom that veil'd the skies O'er the dreadful sacrifice ; Listen to our humble cry, Hear our solemn Litany !
By Thy deep expiring groan ; By the sad sepulchral stone ; By the vault, whose dark abode Held in vain the rising God ; |
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