Amidst Thy wrath remember love,
Restore Thy servant, Lord;
Nor let a Father’s chastening prove
Like an avenger’s sword.

Thine arrows stick within my heart,
My flesh is sorely pressed;
Between the sorrow and the smart,
My spirit finds no rest.

My sins a heavy load appear,
And o’er my head are gone;
Too heavy they for me to bear,
Too hard for me t’atone.

My thoughts are like a troubled sea,
My head still bending down;
And I go mourning all the day,
Beneath my Father’s frown.

Lord, I am weak and broken sore,
None of my powers are whole:
The inward anguish makes me roar,
The anguish of my soul.

All my desire to Thee is known,
Thine eye counts every tear;
And every sigh, and every groan,
Is noticed by Thine ear.

Thou art my God, my only hope;
My God will hear my cry;
My God will bear my spirit up,
When Satan bids me die.

My foot is ever apt to slide,
My foes rejoice to see’t;
They raise their pleasure and their pride
When they supplant my feet.

But I’ll confess my guilt to Thee,
And grieve for all my sin;
I’ll mourn how weak my graces be,
And beg support divine.

My God, forgive my follies past,
And be for ever nigh;
O Lord of my salvation, haste,
Before Thy servant die.

In Thy wrath and hot displeasure,
Chasten not Thy servant, Lord;
Let Thy mercy, without measure,
Help and peace to me afford.

Heavy is my tribulation,
Sore my punishment has been;
Broken by Thine indignation,
I am troubled by my sin.

With my burden of transgression
Heavy laden, overborne,
Humbled low I make confession,
For my folly now I mourn.

Weak and wounded, I implore Thee:
Lord, to me Thy mercy show;
All my prayer is now before Thee,
All my trouble Thou dost know.

Darkness gathers, foes assail me.
But I answer not a word;
All my friends desert and fail me,
Only Thou my cry hast heard.

Lord, in Thee I am confiding;
Thou wilt answer when I call,
Lest my foes, the good deriding,
Triumph in Thy servant’s fall.

I am prone to halt and stumble,
Grief and sorrow dwell within,
Shame and guilt my spirit humble,
I am sorry for my sin.

Foes about my soul are closing,
Full of hatred, false and strong;
Choosing good, I find opposing
All who love and do the wrong.

Lord, my God, do not forsake me,
Let me know that Thou art near,
Under Thy protection take me,
As my Savior now appear.

Alas! my God! my sins are great,
My conscience doth upbraid me;
And now I find that at my strait
No man hath power to aid me.

And fled I hence, in my despair,
In some lone spot to hide me,
My griefs would still be with me there,
Thy hand still hold and guide me.

Nay, Thee I seek—I merit naught,
Yet pity and restore me;
Be not Thy wrath, just God, my lot,
Thy Son hath suffered for me.

If pain and woe must follow sin,
Then be my path still rougher,
Here spare me not; if Heaven I win,
On earth I gladly suffer.

But curb my heart, forgive my guilt,
Make Thou my patience firmer,
For they must miss the good Thou wilt,
Who at Thy teachings murmur.

Then deal with me as seems Thee best,
Thy grace will help me bear it,
If but at last I see Thy rest,
And with my Savior share it.

O the darkness, O the sorrow,
O the misery of sin!
When will dawn the promised morrow
That shall bring deliverance in?

One there was ordained to languish,
Guiltless, in Gethsemane;
One there was Who died in anguish
Innocent, on Calvary.

Jesus was the Burden-bearer,
God’s own Son the Sacrifice;
Of the griefs of man the Sharer,
Of his soul the Ransom-price.

’Tis the Christ, the Ever-living,
Ever-loving, Ever-blest,
By the Comforter still giving
Pardon, holiness, and rest.

Can the love so freely given,
Can the blood so freely shed,
Fail to draw the earth to Heaven,
Fail to bring alive its dead?

Rise, O children of the Father,
Stand, ye brothers of the Son,
In unyielding ranks together
Till the crown of Christ be won;

Till the lands of sin and sorrow,
Darker than the ancient night,
Shall behold the promised morrow
Beam on them with saving light.