 | Poetical works (1908) |  |
PSAL. 130.
[From the deeps of grief and fear]
From the deeps of grief and fear,
O Lord, to thee my soul repairs:
From thy heav'n bow down thine eare;
Let thy mercie meet my prayers.
Oh if thou mark'st what's done amisse,
What soul so pure, can see thy blisse?
O Lord, to thee my soul repairs:
From thy heav'n bow down thine eare;
Let thy mercie meet my prayers.
Oh if thou mark'st what's done amisse,
What soul so pure, can see thy blisse?
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But with thee sweet mercie stands,
Sealing pardons, working fear:
Wait my soul, wait on his hands;
Wait mine eye, oh wait mine eare:
If he his eye or tongue affords,
Watch all his looks, catch all his words.
Sealing pardons, working fear:
Wait my soul, wait on his hands;
Wait mine eye, oh wait mine eare:
If he his eye or tongue affords,
Watch all his looks, catch all his words.
As a watchman waits for day,
And looks for light, and looks again;
When the night grows old and gray,
To be reliev'd he calls amain:
So look, so wait, so long mine eyes,
To see my Lord, my Sunne, arise.
And looks for light, and looks again;
When the night grows old and gray,
To be reliev'd he calls amain:
So look, so wait, so long mine eyes,
To see my Lord, my Sunne, arise.
Wait ye saints, wait on our Lord;
For from his tongue sweet mercie flows:
Wait on his crosse, wait on his word;
Upon that tree redemption grows:
He will redeem his Israel
From sinne and wrath, from death and hell.
For from his tongue sweet mercie flows:
Wait on his crosse, wait on his word;
Upon that tree redemption grows:
He will redeem his Israel
From sinne and wrath, from death and hell.
| Poetical works (1908) | |