Have mer­cy, Lord, Thy wrath re­move,
Nor let Thy judg­ments weigh me down;
I can­not live with­out Thy love,
I can­not stand be­neath Thy frown.

Wilt Thou not once Thy face dis­play,
And dart a ray of hea­ven­ly light?
Still must I urge my cheer­less way,
And mourn through­out my long-lived night?

Lo! In my pray­er I ev­er mourn,
Vexed with the sad re­mains of sin,
Broken, and bruised, and racked, and torn,
How shall I bear this hell with­in?

This un­be­lief, these cru­el fears,
Distracting doubts, and tor­tur­ing pain,
While Thou art si­lent at my tears,
Thou see’st them ev­er flow in vain.

And must I yield to black des­pair?
In vain on Thee for mer­cy call,
Tempted above what I can bear!
And wilt Thou suf­fer me to fall?

Never again dis­close Thy face,
Or show me the aton­ing blood?
Have I ex­haust­ed all Thy grace?
Hath God for­got­ten to be good?

Forever is Thy mer­cy gone,
Thy truth, and faith­ful­ness, and love?
Doth ang­ry jus­tice rule alone?
Have I no ad­vo­cate above?

Then pour Thy ven­geance on my head,
And quench the smok­ing flax in me,
Break (if Thou canst) a bruis­èd reed,
And cast me out who come to Thee.

Jesu, I come my doom to meet,
A sin­ner whom Thou wilt not spare:
But I will per­ish at Thy feet,
The first that ev­er per­ished there!