Peter’s Deliverance C.M.D.

This is in 7-shape. Birdseyes optional.

My soul is like a bird confined
That longs to stretch and soar.
This she attempts with anxious mind
But feels her bonds the more.
Often I upwards cast an eye
Towards my Father's throne,
And fain my soul would thither fly
But oh, I'm pressèd down!

Into the inner prison thrust,
I seem in stocks detained;
Thou only canst this prison burst,
And loose a soul that's chained.
Send a bright angel from the skies,
As once to Peter came,
Who smote his side, and bade him rise,
O grant to me the same!