Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
How long wilt thou conceal thy face?|
My God, how long delay?
When shall I feel those heav'nly rays
That chase my fears away?
2. How long shall my poor lab'ring soul
3. See how the prince of darkness tries
4. Be thou my sun, and thou my shield,|
My soul in safety keep;
Make haste, before mine eyes are sealed
In death's eternal sleep.
5. How would the tempter boast aloud
6. But they shall fly at thy rebuke,
7. Thou wilt display that sovereign grace,|
Where all my hopes have hung;
I shall employ my lips in praise,
And victory shall be sung.
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