1 In Anger, Lord, do not chastise.
Withdraw the dreadful storm;
Nor let thine awful wrath arise
Against a feeble worm.
2 My soul bow'd down with heavy cares,
My flesh with pain oppress'd,
My couch is witness to my tears,
My tears forbid my rest.
3 Sorrow and grief wear out my days;
I waste the night with cries,
And count the minutes as they pass,
'Till the slow morning rise.
4 Shall I be still tormented more?
My eyes consum'd with grief?
How long, my God, how long, before
Thine hand afford relief?
5 He hears his mourning children speak,
He pities all our groans,
And saves us for his mercy’s sake,
And heals our broken bones.
6 The virtue of his sovereign word
Restores our fainting breath:
For silent graves praise not the Lord,
Nor is he known in death.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | In Anger, Lord, do not chastise |
Title: | Complaint in Sickness; or, Diseases healed |
Meter: | Common Metre |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1785 |
Scripture: |