Words: Isaac Watts
Note: there is also a Common Metre version on this page
Pleading with God under desertion.
1 How long, O Lord, shall I complain, Like one that seeks his God in vain? Canst thou thy face for ever hide, And I still pray, and be denied?
2 Shall I for ever be forgot, As one whom thou regardest not? Still shall my soul thine absence mourn, And still despair of thy return?
3 How long shall my poor troubled breast Be with these anxious thoughts oppressed? And Satan, my malicious foe, Rejoice to see me sunk so low?
4 Hear, Lord, and grant me quick relief, Before my death conclude my grief: If thou withhold thy heav'nly light, I sleep in everlasting night.
5 How will the powers of darkness boast, If but one praying soul be lost! But I have trusted in thy grace, And shall again behold thy face.
6 Whate'er my fears or foes suggest, Thou art my hope, my joy, my rest; My heart shall feel thy love, and raise My cheerful voice to songs of praise.
Complaint under temptations of the devil.
1 How long wilt thou conceal thy face? O God, how long delay? When shall I feel those heav'nly rays That chase my fears away?
2 How long shall my poor lab'ring soul Wrestle and toil in vain? Thy word can all my foes control, And ease my raging pain.
3 See how the prince of darkness tries All his malicious arts; He spreads a mist around my eyes, And throws his fiery darts.
4 Be thou my sun, and thou my shield, My soul in safety keep; Make haste, before mine eyes are sealed In death's eternal sleep.
5 How would the tempter boast aloud If I become his prey! Behold, the sons of hell grow proud At thy so long delay.
6 But they shall fly at thy rebuke, And Satan hide his head; He knows the terrors of thy look, And hears thy voice with dread.
7 Thou wilt display that sov'reign grace, Where all my hopes have hung; I shall employ my lips in praise, And vict'ry shall be sung.