Melancholy thoughts reproved; or, Hope in afflictions.
My spirit sinks within me, Lord,
But I will call thy name to mind,
And times of past distress record,
When I have found my God was kind.
Huge troubles with tumultuous noise
Swell like a sea, and round me spread;
Thy water-spouts drown all my joys,
And rising waves roll o'er my head.
Yet will the Lord command his love,
When I address his throne by day,
Nor in the night his grace remove;
The night shall hear me sing and pray.
I'll cast myself before his feet,
And say, |My God, my heav'nly rock,
Why doth thy love so long forget
The soul that groans beneath thy stroke?|
I'll chide my heart that sinks so low,
Why should my soul indulge her grief?
Hope in the Lord, and praise him too;
He is my rest, my sure relief.
Thy light and truth shall guide me still,
Thy word shall my best thoughts employ,
And lead me to thine heav'nly hill,
My God, my most exceeding joy.