In time of tribulation, hear, Lord, my feeble cries;
With humble supplication to Thee my spirit flies;
My heart with grief is breaking, scarce can my voice complain;
Mine eyes with tears kept waking, still watch and weep in vain. The days of old, in vision, bring banished bliss to view;
The years of lost fruition, their joys in pangs renew;
Remembered songs of gladness, through nights lone silence brought,
Strike notes of deeper sadness, and stir desponding thought. Hath God cast off forever? Can time His truth impair?
His tender mercy never shall I presume to share?
Hath He His loving kindness shut up in endless wrath?
No; this is mine own blindness, that cannot see His path. I call to recollection the years of His right hand;
And, strong in His protection, again through faith I stand;
Thy deeds, O Lord, are wondrous; holy are all Thy ways;
The secret place of thunder shall utter forth Thy praise. Thee, with the tribes assembled, O God, the billows saw;
They saw Thee, and they trembled, turned, and stood still with awe;
The clouds shot hail and lightning; the earth reeled to and fro;
Thy fiery pillar brightened the gulf of gloom below. Thy way is in great waters, Thy footsteps are not known;
Let Adam’s sons and daughters confide in Thee alone:
Through the wild sea Thou leadest Thy chosen flock of yore;
Still on the waves Thou treadest, and Thy redeemed pass o’er. |
[Psa 63:6] Father, The Watches Of The Night Are O’er
