|HEAR me, O Lord, nor hide Thy face,
When I in troubles lie,
Hast Thou not made a throne of grace
To hear when sinners cry?
|2||My days, like smoke, are wasted, vain,
Dispersing in the air;
My strength is dried, my heart in pain,
And sinking in despair.
|3||I am deprived of former joy,
And conscious of Thy frown;
Thy hand advanced me once so high,
But now has cast me down.
|4||But Thou for ever art the same,
O my eternal God!
In days to come I’ll love Thy name
And speak Thy works abroad.
|5||Thou wilt arise and show Thy face,
Nor will my Lord delay
Beyond the appointed hour of grace,
That set and certain day.
|Isaac Watts, 1674-1748|