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 CXL. 
 CXLI. 
 CXLII. 
 CXLIII. 
CXLIII. THE SAME.
 CXLIV. 
 CXLV. 
 CXLVI. 
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 CXLVIII. 
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CXLIII. THE SAME.

Hymn 4.

[Thou, Lord, who hast ravish'd away]

Thou, Lord, who hast ravish'd away
The joy of mine eyes with a stroke,
To Thee in my trouble I pray,
To Thee for my comfort I look;
No help upon earth can I see,
And deeply disconsolate mourn,
The world is a desert to me,
Till Jesus, and Eden return.

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Thy favour alone can supply
The place of all other relief,
The pity that drops from Thine eye
Assuages and quiets my grief:
A widow in want and distress,
If Thee my Defender I prove,
I sweetly recover my peace,
And calmly rejoice in Thy love.
Now therefore a spirit receive,
Resolved upon Thee to depend,
And wholly to Thee let me live,
My only unchangeable Friend:
Preserve me a widow indeed,
Till call'd to my lasting abode,
From sorrow eternally freed,
And rapt to the bosom of God.