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124 FABER'S HYMNS.
It seemed as if nothing less likely could be
Than that light should break in on a dungeon so deep;
To create a new world were less hard than to free The slave from his bondage, the soul from its sleep.
But the word had gone forth, and said, Let there be light, And it flashed through my soul like a sharp passing smart; One look to my Saviour, and all the dark night, Like a dream scarce remembered, was gone from my heart.
I cried out for mercy, and fell on my knees,
And confessed, while my heart with keen sorrow was wrung; 'Twas the labor of minutes, and years of disease Fell as fast from my soul as the words from my tongue.
And now, blest be God and the sweet Lord who died!
No deer on the mountain, no bird in the sky, No bright wave that leaps on the dark bounding tide,
Is a creature so free or so happy as I.
All hail, then, all hail, to the dear Precious Blood, That hath worked these sweet wonders of mercy in me; May each day countless numbers throng down to its flood, And God have His glory, and sinners go free. |
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