Night has fallen on the city, And the streets at last are still Whee the noisy crowd, unceasing Did the air with shoutings fill, And the weary, wayworn travelers Preaching Jesus through the land Are in deepest dungeon darkness By the magistrate's command. Many stripes to them were given, Many curses on them cast, Mary bolts and bars surround them In the stocks their feet are fast. While the cruel Roman jailor All securely sleeping on Little dreams the ighty wonders Of the orrow's early dawn. Hark, the signing of the prinsoners, 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 behold the earth is quaking Loosed are ev'ry 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 heavenly peace. Pray, oh pray, thou burdened prisoner God will give thee sweet release.