Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever god may be
For my unconquerable soul--
Heavenly Father, are you really there?
And do you hear and answer every child's prayer?
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor loud cried,
But I'm lost, crushed, cold and confused
With no guiding light left inside.
Under these bludgeonings of chance,
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
When comfort and warmth can't be found
I still reach for you.
Heavenly Father, are you really there?
And do you hear and answer every child's prayer?
Beyond this place of wrath and tears,
Some say that heaven is far away--
Yet here looms but the Horror of the shade:
I feel it all around me as I try pray.
I but hope it finds and shall find me unafraid.
O God, my God, where art thou?
I need thee every hour, most gracious Lord,
And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?
For no tender voice like thine can peace afford.
Stretch forth thy hand; let pierce thine eye;
The sunshine trapped in hearts, it yet could rise!
Let thy pavilion be taken up,
And thy hiding place be hid no more;
Remove the dark that covers, I implore!
Let thine ear be inclined;
Let thine heart softened be:
Listen, listen and answer,
As I call upon thee.
Awake from thy slumber,
And let thy bowels be moved
With compassion toward me.
And if thou art dead,
Rise again, I plea--
Rise again, for me.
