To God will I di­rect my pray­er,
And He will make my needs His care;
I trust Him still, though in my grief
No an­swer yet has brought re­lief;
With hands out­stretched through all the night,
Uncomforted I sought for light.

The thought of God brought me no peace,
But ra­ther made my fears in­crease;
With sleep­less eyes and speech­less pain
My faint­ing spir­it grieved in vain;
The bless­ed­ness of long ago
Made deep­er still my pre­sent woe.

Recalling days when faith was bright,
When songs of glad­ness filled my night,
I pon­dered o’er my griev­ous woes
And search­ing ques­tion­ing arose;
Will God cast off, and ne­ver­more
His fa­vor to my soul re­store?

I asked in fear and bit­ter­ness:
Will God for­sake me in dis­tress?
Shall I His pro­mise faith­less find?
Has God for­got­ten to be kind?
Has He in an­ger hope­less­ly
Removed His love and grace from me?

These doubts and fears that trou­bled me
Were born of my in­fir­mi­ty;
Though I am weak, God is most high,
And on His goodness I re­ly;
Of all His won­ders, I will tell,
And on His deeds my thoughts shall dwell.