Thy tender mercies, O my Lord,
Withhold not, I implore;
But let Thy kindness and Thy truth
Preserve me evermore.
For countless ills have compassed me,
My sinful deeds arise;
Yea, they have overtaken me;
I dare not raise my eyes. My sins are more than I can count,
My heart has failed for grief;
Be pleased, O Lord, to rescue me,
O haste to my relief.
Be those who seek to hurt my soul
Dismayed and put to flight,
And they themselves be put to shame
Who in my woe delight. Let all who seek Thee now rejoice,
Yea, glad in Thee abide,
And, loving Thy salvation, say,
The Lord be magnified.
My lowly state and bitter need
The Lord has not forgot;
Thou art my Savior and my help,
Come, Lord, and tarry not. |
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