The Languish At Liberty Jail Poem by Chris Schleier, Jr.

O God, The Father of my soul...

Where art thou in my control?

Wherein is thy hiding place,

and why hast thou withheld thy face?

I languish in this prison cell...

and my beloved languish hell-

beyond these bars, outside this door...

where is thy presence, I implore?

Where, O God, is thy great hand

as blood is spilled upon thy land?

how long must we suffer thence,

with light and virtue withdrawn hence?

Hast thou, O God, forsaken us?

Hast thou, O God, forgotten us:

The saints come forth in latter days?

Hear our cries, this servant prays......

......My son, peace be unto thy soul:

Thy people art in my control!

Every soul that near thee dies

unto Me doth nobly rise!

Thine adversities, though rough-

and also thine afflictions tough-

Shall be but a moment small.

Thou shalt triumph over all!

Thy friends do stand by thee, and hail

with every weep, and cry, and wail.

For, with me, they have come to rest,

and all their efforts I have blessed.