Paul and Silas

Night had fall­en on the ci­ty

And the streets at last were still

Where the noi­sy throng the day-long

Did the air with shout­ings fill.

And the wea­ry way­worn tra­vel­ers

Preaching Je­sus thro’ the land

Were in deep­est dun­geon dark­ness

At the ma­gis­trates’ com­mand.

Many stripes to them were giv­en

Many curs­es on them cast;

Many bolts and bars sur­round them

In the stocks their feet were fast.

While the trus­ty Ro­man jail­er

All se­cure­ly slum­ber­ing on

Little dreamed the migh­ty won­der

Of the mor­row’s ear­ly dawn.

Hark the sigh­ing of the pri­son­ers

Hear their moan­ings loud and long;

No

again

and loud­er

clear­er

’Tis the voice of pray­er and song.

See

the pri­son walls are shak­ing

And the door wide op­en stands;

Lo

the earth

the earth is quak­ing

Loosed are ev­ery pri­son­er’s bands.

Oh

there’s not a cell so lone­ly

But a song may ec­ho there;

Oh

there’s not a night so cheer­less

But there’s po­ten­cy in pray­er.

Sing

oh sing

thou wea­ry pil­grim

Song will bring thee heav’n­ly peace

Pray

oh pray

thou bur­dened pri­son­er

God will give thee sweet re­lease.