520Job 23:1-7CM
O THAT I knew the secret place,
   Where I might find my God!
I’d spread my wants before His face
    And pour my woes abroad.
2  I’d tell Him how my sins arise,
    What sorrows I sustain;
How grace decays and comfort dies,
    And leaves my heart in pain.
3  He knows what arguments I’d take
    To wrestle with my God;
I’d plead for His own mercy’s sake,
    And for my Saviour’s blood.
4  My God will pity my complaints,
    And heal my broken bones;
He takes the meaning of His saints,
    The language of their groans.
5  Arise, my soul, from deep distress,
    And banish every fear;
He calls you to His throne of grace
    To spread your sorrows there.
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748