Be pitiful, oh God! the night is long,
My soul is faint with watching for the light,
And still the gloom and doubt of seven-fold night
Hangs heavy on my spirit: Thou art strong.—
Pity me, oh my God!

I stretch my hands through darkness up to Thee,—
The stars are shrouded, and the night is dumb;
There is no earthly help,—to Thee I come
In all my helplessness and misery,—
Pity me, oh my God!

Be pitiful, oh God!—for I am weak,
And all my paths are rough, and hedged about,—
Hold Thou my hand dear Lord, and lead me out,
And bring me to the city which I seek,—
Pity me, oh my God!

By the temptation which Thou didst endure,
And by Thy fasting and Thy midnight prayer,
Jesu! let me not utterly despair;
Oh! hide me in the Rock from ill secure,—
Pity me, oh my God!

Mine eyes run down with tears that do not cease;
Oh! when beyond the river dark and cold,
Shall I the white walls of my home behold,—
The shining palaces—the streets of gold,—
And enter through the gates the City of Peace,—
Pity me, oh my God!