Classic Poem

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 wander'd aside;
But Thee, their Creator,
They never denied.

O tender Redeemer!
Their misery see;
Deliver the souls
That were ransom'd 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;
Attemper the rigour
Of justice severe;
And soften their flames
With a pitying tear.

Ye Patrons! who watch'd
O'er their safety below;
Oh! think how they need
Your fidelity now;
And stir all the Angels
And Saints of the sky,
To plead for the souls
That upon you rely.

Ye Friends! who, once sharing
Their pleasure and pain,
Now haply already
In Paradise reign!
Oh! comfort their hearts
With a whisper of love;
And call them to share
In your pleasures above.

O Fountain of goodness!
Accept our sighs;
Let thy mercy bestow
What thy justice denies;
So may thy poor captives,
Releas'd from their woes,
Thy praises proclaim
While eternity flows.

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.