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?

How long shall my poor la­bor­ing soul
Wrestle and toil in vain?
Thy word can all my foes con­trol
And ease my rag­ing pain.

See how the prince of dark­ness tries
All his ma­li­cious arts;
He spreads a mist around my eyes,
And throws his fie­ry darts.

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.

How would the tempt­er boast aloud
If I be­come his prey!
Behold, the sons of hell grow proud
At Thy so long de­lay.

But they shall fly at Thy re­buke,
And Sa­tan hide his head;
He knows the ter­rors of Thy look,
And hears Thy voice with dread.

Thou wilt dis­play Thy so­ve­reign grace,
Where all my hopes have hung,
I shall em­ploy my lips in praise
And vic­to­ry shall be sung.