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Friday, March 28, 2014

Cat with Night had fallen on the city and Dear Lord and Master mine

Night had fallen on the city,
And the streets at last were still,
Where the noisy throng the daylong,
Did the air with shoutings fill.
And the weary wayworn trav’lers
Preaching Jesus thro’ the land,
Were in deepest dungeon darkness,
At the magistrates’ command.

Many stripes to them were given,
Many curses on them cast;
Many bolts and bars surround them,
In the stocks their feet were fast.
While the trusty Roman jailer,
All securely slumb’ring on,
Little dream’d the mighty wonder
Of the morrow’s early dawn.

Hark the sighing of the prisoners,
Hear their moanings loud and long;
No, again, and louder, clearer,
‘Tis the voice of prayer and song.
See, the prison walls are shaking,
And the door wide open stands;
Lo, the earth, the earth is quaking,
Loos’d are ev’ry prisoner’s bands.

Oh, there’s not a cell so lonely,
But a song may echo there;
Oh, there’s not a night so cheerless,
But there’s potency in prayer.
Sing, oh, sing, thou weary pilgrim,
Song will bring thee heav’nly peace,
Pray, oh, pray, thou burden’d prisoner,
God will give thee sweet release.
         P. P. Bliss
Dear Lord and Master mine,
  Thy happy servant see;
My Conqueror, with what joy Divine
  Thy captive clings to Thee!

I love Thy yoke to wear,
  To feel Thy gracious bands;
Sweetly restrained by Thy care,
  And happy in Thy hands.

No bar would I remove,
  No bond would I unbind;
Within the limits of Thy love
  Full liberty I find.

I would not walk alone,
  But still with Thee, my God;
At every step my blindness own,
  And ask of Thee the road.

Dear Lord and Master mine,
  Still keep Thy servant true;
My Guardian and my Guide Divine,
  Bring, bring Thy pilgrim through.
        Thomas H. Gill

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