1 In anger, Lord, rebuke me not,
Withdraw the dreadful storm;
Nor let thy fury grow so hot
Against a feeble worm.
2 My soul bow'd down with heavy cares,
My flesh with pain opprest;
My couch is witness to my tears,
My tears forbid my rest.
3 Sorrow and pain wear out my days;
I waste the night with cries;
Counting 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 when dust and ashes speak,
He pities all our groans;
And saves us for his mercy’s sake,
And heals our broken bones.
6 The virtue of his sov'reign 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, rebuke me not |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1790 |
Scripture: | |
Notes: | Public Domain. |