A Celtic Psaltery by Alfred Perceval Graves
page 67 of 205 (32%)
page 67 of 205 (32%)
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My fervent prayer with upward wing
Unto the King, the great High King Of Heaven and Earth, to carry? Unto my soul Bring help, bring comfort, yea bring power To win release, in death's black hour, From sin, distress, and dole. Till, as devoutly My fading eyes seek Heaven's dim height, To meet me with thy myriads bright, Do thou adventure stoutly. Captain of hosts, Against earth's wicked, crooked clan To aid me lead thy battle van And quell their cruel boasts. Archangel glorious, Disdain not now thy suppliant urgent, But over every sin insurgent Set me at last victorious. Thou art my choosing! That with my body, soul, and spirit Eternal life I may inherit, Thine aid be not refusing. In my sore need |
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