18
AN INVOCATION TO HOPE.1824.
Reach out, sweet Hope, thy fostering hand,
To succour in this barren land—
Of aught but pain and grief:
There 's naught that now my heart can cheer,
Unless thy soothing voice be near,
To calm and give relief.
To succour in this barren land—
Of aught but pain and grief:
There 's naught that now my heart can cheer,
Unless thy soothing voice be near,
To calm and give relief.
Come, quickly fly, ere 't is too late,
While, struggling with oppressive fate,
Life's feeble pulses flow:
Oh! in this sad, distressing hour,
Wilt thou display thy sovereign power,
And guide through every woe?
While, struggling with oppressive fate,
Life's feeble pulses flow:
Oh! in this sad, distressing hour,
Wilt thou display thy sovereign power,
And guide through every woe?
Then, O accept my thanks sincere.
If thou my prayer shalt deign to hear,
And thy deliverance send,
I'll ever live thy devotee;
My willing heart I'll give to thee,
Until my life shall end.
If thou my prayer shalt deign to hear,
And thy deliverance send,
I'll ever live thy devotee;
My willing heart I'll give to thee,
Until my life shall end.
