Oh, that my head were wa­ters, and my eyes
Were fount­ains, flow­ing like the li­quid skies;
Then would I give the migh­ty flood re­lease,
And weep a del­uge for the hu­man race!

Oh, that in this dark wil­der­ness of woe,
I had some lodg­ing place where I might go
And leave my peo­ple, who heed not the Word,
And will not list­en to the gra­cious Lord.

They pass along amid the bu­sy throng,
With slan­der and de­ceit up­on their tongue:
With haugh­ty heads des­pise the bless­èd Word,
And will not know Me, saith the gra­cious Lord.

How Zi­on mourns be­cause of the great woe,
The Lord shall bring up­on my people now:
They to the mount­ains flee, and weep and wail,
While fire and de­so­la­tion fill the vale.

And death has en­tered in their homes, and they
Shall see their child­ren die and pass away;
Confounded, and in grief they faint and fall,
While fed by God with worm­wood and with gall.

But he that un­der­stand­eth yet may know
That I the Lord will lov­ing­kind­ness show;
If they will come and trust My ho­ly Word,
I will for­give them, saith the gra­cious Lord.

Then sin­ner, come, and seek thy Fa­ther’s face,
Come and be saved by His re­deem­ing grace;
Come to His lov­ing arms, and He will take you in,
And save you from the power of guilt and sin.