835    112th     J. Hart
Desertion. Ps. 25. 16, 17; 69. 1, 2; 143. 4

1 Deep in a cold, a joyless cell,
  A doleful gulf of gloomy care,
  Where dismal doubts and darkness dwell,
  The dangerous brink of black despair;
  Chilled by the icy damps of death,
  I feel no firm support of faith.

2 [How can a burdened cripple rise?
  How can a fettered captive flee?
  Ah! Lord, direct my wishful eyes,
  And let me look, at least, to thee.
  Alas! my sinking spirits droop;
  I scarce perceive a glimpse of hope.]

3 Extend thy mercy, gracious God;
  Thy quickening Spirit vouchsafe to send;
  Apply the reconciling blood,
  And kindly call thy foe thy friend;
  Or, if rich cordials thou deny,
  Let patience comfort’s place supply.

4 Let hope survive, though damped by doubt;
  Do thou defend my battered shield;
  O let me never quite give out;
  Help me to keep the bloody field;
  Lord, look upon the unequal strife;
  Delay not, lest I lose my life.