Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
In anger, Lord, rebuke me not;|
Withdraw the dreadful storm;
Nor let thy fury grow so hot
Against a feeble worm.
2. My soul's bowed down with heavy cares,
3. Sorrow and pain wear out my days,
4. Shall I be still tormented more?|
Mine eye consumed with grief?
How long, my God, how long before
Thine hand afford relief?
5. He hears when dust and ashes speak,
6. The virtue of his sovereign word
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