1 Dear Refuge of my weary soul,
On Thee, when sorrows rise--
On Thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies.
2 To Thee I tell each rising grief,
For Thou alone canst heal;
Thy word can bring a sweet relief,
For every pain I feel.
3 Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face?
And shall I seek in vain?
And can the ear of sovereign grace
Be deaf when I complain?
4 No: still the ear of sovereign grace
Attends the mourner's prayer;
Oh, may I ever find access
To breathe my sorrows there!
5 Thy mercy-seat is open still;
Here let my soul retreat,
With humble hope attend thy will,
And wait beneath thy feet.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Dear Refuge of my weary soul |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1867 |
Topic: | Man a Saint: In Bodily and Spiritual Trouble |