“Sighs the lowest dungeon's captive!
Will his sighs unheard ascend?
Strike they not a chord responsive
In the mourning exile's Friend?
“Lord, Thine infinite compassion,
Thine exhaustless sympathy
This believing, consolation
Shall I not receive from Thee
“Trembling, fainting, Lord, behold me,
Words befitting me I’ve none;
Yet the grief that can't be told Thee
Equals not, dear Lord, Thine own.
"Dost Thou not, then, know the feeling
Which I would but cannot tell,
That which needs Thy Spirit's healing!
Ah! Thou dost, dear Lord, and well,
"Fellow-pilgrims ask a question,
Why I should not cheerful be?
But the tearful eye's expression,
It is understood by Thee.”