Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
How long, O Lord, shall I complain,|
Like one that seeks his God in vain?
Canst thou thy face for ever hide,
And I still pray, and be denied?
2. Shall I for ever be forgot,
3. How long shall my poor troubled breast
4. Hear, Lord, and grant me quick relief,|
Before my death conclude my grief:
If thou withhold thy heav'nly light,
I sleep in everlasting night.
5. How will the powers of darkness boast,
6. Whate'er my fears or foes suggest,
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