Lone amidst the dead and dy­ing,
Lord, my spir­it faints for Thee;
Longing, thirst­ing, droop­ing, sigh­ing,
When shall I Thy pre­sence see?

O how al­tered my con­di­tion;
Late I led the joy­ous throng;
Beat my heart with full fru­ition,
Flowed my lips with grate­ful song.

Now the storm goes wild­ly o’er me,
Waves on waves my soul con­found:
Naught but bod­ing fears be­fore me,
Naught but threat­en­ing foes around.

Save me, save me, O my Fa­ther!
To Thy faith­ful word I cling;
Thence, my soul, thy com­fort ga­ther;
Hope, and thou again shalt sing.