Lord, I can suffer thy rebukes,
When thou with kindness dost chastise;
But thy fierce wrath I cannot bear:
O let it not against me rise.
Pity my languishing estate,
And ease the sorrows that I feel;
The wounds thine heavy hand hath made,
O let thy gentler touches heal!
See how I pass my weary days
In sighs and groans; and when 'tis night
My bed is watered with my tears;
My grief consumes, and dims my sight.
Look, how the powers of nature mourn!
How long, Almighty God, how long?
When shall thine hour of grace return?
When shall I make thy grace my song?
I feel my flesh so near the grave,
My thoughts are tempted to despair;
But graves can never praise the Lord,
For all is dust and silence there.
Depart, ye tempters, from my soul,
And all despairing thoughts, depart;
My God, who hears my humble moan,
Will ease my flesh, and cheer my heart.
Source: Psalms and Hymns of Isaac Watts, The #Ps.13