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XII. THE SAME. AT WAKING.

Hymn 4.

Again my mournful sighs
Prevent the rising morn,
Again my wishful eyes
Look out for His return:
I weep, and languish for relief,
And long my Lord to find,
But wake alas! to all the grief,
And load I left behind.

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O depth of sad distress,
When shall my sorrows end!
When will the Prince of Peace
Declare Himself my friend?
Or must I thus for ever cry
In hopeless misery,
My God, my God, and Saviour, why
Hast Thou forsaken me!
Is there no balm of love
Within Thy bosom found,
My anguish to remove,
And heal my spirit's wound?
Or wilt Thou, Lord, my cure disclaim,
Who need of healing have?
Because the sinners' chief I am,
Wilt Thou refuse to save?
Most helpless is my soul
Of all the sin-sick race,
Thou therefore make it whole,
In honour of Thy grace:
More honour will Thy grace receive
By freely pardoning me,
Than if ten thousand sinners live,
Converted all to Thee.
Come then, and show Thine art,
Physician most Divine,
Bind up my broken heart,
Pour in Thy oil and wine:
Into my heart the Spirit pour
Of love, and joy, and peace,
To perfect health my soul restore,
To perfect holiness.