Encompassed with clouds of dis­tress,
Just rea­dy all hope to re­sign,
I pant for the light of Thy face,
And fear it will ne­ver be mine;
Disheartened with wait­ing so long,
I sink at Thy feet with my load;
All plaint­ive I pour out my song,
And stretch forth my hands un­to God.

Shine, Lord, and my ter­ror shall cease;
The blood of atone­ment ap­ply;
And lead me to Je­sus for peace,
The Rock that is high­er than I;
Speak, Sav­ior, for sweet is Thy voice,
Thy pre­sence is fair to be­hold;
Attend to my sor­rows and cries,
My groan­ings that can­not be told.

If some­times I strive as I mourn,
My hold of Thy pro­mise to keep,
The bil­lows more fierce­ly re­turn,
And plunge me again in the deep;
Harassed and cast out from Thy sight,
The tempt­er sug­gests with a roar,
The Lord has for­sak­en thee quite;
Thy God will be gra­cious no more.

Yet, Lord, if Thy love hath de­signed
No co­ve­nant bless­ing for me,
Ah, tell me, how is it I find
Some plea­sure in wait­ing for Thee?
Almighty to res­cue Thou art;
Thy grace is my on­ly re­source:
If e’er Thou art Lord of my heart,
Thy Spir­it must take it by force.