Where is my Sav­ior now,
Whose smiles I once pos­sessed?
Till He re­turn, I bow,
By hea­vi­est grief op­pressed:
My days of hap­pi­ness are gone,
And I am left to weep alone.

Where can the mourn­er go?
And tell his tale of grief?
Ah, who can soothe his woe,
And give him sweet re­lief?
Earth can­not heal the wound­ed breast,
Or give the trou­bled sin­ner rest.

Jesus, Thy smiles im­part;
My dear­est Lord, re­turn,
And ease my wound­ed heart,
And bid me cease to mourn;
Then shall this night of sor­row flee,
And peace and Heav’n be found in Thee.