Peter’s Deliverance,

'Tis midnight; and, the busy world

Has ceased from toil and care

Why then is yonder weeping band.

Still bowed in fervent prayer?

Ah! one is from their number gone

A brother, ever dear,

Who, when afflictions pressed around,

Was wont their hearts to cheer.

With them he sang their songs of praise,

With them ho knelt to pray:

At length there came a ruthless band,

And born him thence away.

Within the dreary prison walls,

He, bound in chains, doth lie;

The cruel monarch has decreed,

To-morrow he must die,

But pray, What evil hath he done,

For which he has been tried?

'Tis only preaching pardon free,

Through Christ, the Crucified;

The mourners dry those falling tears;

For God has heard each prayer 

And He who watches o'er his saints,

Doth still for Peter care.

For lo! commissioned from on high,

In haste, an Angel flew

Before him bolted doors gave way,

And light the prison grew.

"Peter arise," the angel cries,

"And put thy sandals on;"

And as the galling chains fall off,

They hasten to be gone.

They pass the door, although before

The guard in order stands,

And through the massive iron gate,

Which opens without hands.

And as the Angel guide withdrew.

And Peter left alone,

He hastens on his way to make,

His great deliverance known.

Once more he joins that faithful band,

And tells the joyful news,

How God hath saved him from the king,

And persecuting Jews.

With wonder, joy and gratitude,

They all, with one accord,

Recount the wonders of that night,

The dealings of the Lord.

Ashfield, Mass.