Ye souls of the faithful! who sleep in the Lord;
But as yet are shut out, from your final reward!
Oh! would I could lend you, assistance to fly;
From your prison below, to your palace on high.
O Father of mercies! Thine anger withhold;
These works of Thy hand in Thy mercy behold;
Too oft from Thy path, they have wandered aside:
But Thee, their Creator, they never denied.
O tender Redeemer! Their misery see;
Deliver those souls that were ransomed by Thee;
Behold how they love Thee, despite of their pain:
Restore them, restore them to favour again.
O Spirit of grace! O Consoler divine!
See how for Thy presence they longingly pine;
Ah, then, to enliven their sadness, descend;
And fill them with peace, and with joy in the end.
O Mother of mercy! Dear soother in grief!
Lend thou to their torments a balmy relief;
And temper the rigour of justice severe;
And soften their flames with a pitying tear.
All ye who would honour the Saints and their Head,
Remember, remember, to pray for the dead;
And they, in return, from their misery freed,
To you will be friends in the hour of need.
Shared by Sue Cifelli