Good God, when them thy inward grace dost shower
Into my breast,
How full of light and lively power
Is then my soul!
How am I blest!
How can I then all difficulties devour!
With ease my cumbrous enemy control.
If thou once turn away thy face and hide
Thy cheerful look,
||My feeble flesh may not
||That dreadful stound; hour.
||I cannot brook
||absence. My heart, with
|care and grief then gride,
My life steals from me at that hidden wound.
My fancy's then a burden to my mind;
Mine anxious thought
Betrays my reason, makes me blind;
Near dangers drad dreaded.
Make me distraught;
Surprised with fear my senses all I find:
Oppressed with horror, pain, and sorrow sad.
My former resolutions all are fled--
Slipped over my tongue;
My faith, my hope, and joy are dead.
Assist my heart,
Rather than my song,
My God, my Saviour! When I'm ill-bested.
Shall bear with courage undeservéd smart.