107. Ye souls of the faithful, who sleep in the Lord

Ye souls of the faithful, who sleep in the Lord,

Who yet are shut out from your final reward:

O! would I could lend you assistance to fly

From 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 the souls that were ransomed by Thee:

Behold how they love Thee, despite of their pain:

Restore them, restore them to favor again.

O Spirit of Grace, Thou Consoler divine,

See how for Thy presence they longingly pine,

To lift, to enliven their sadness, descend;

And fill them with peace and with joy in the end.