Lord, I can suffer Thy rebukes,
When Thou with kindness dost chastise;
But Thy fierce wrath I cannot bear:
O let it not against me rise.

Pity my languishing estate,
And ease the sorrows that I feel;
The wounds Thine heavy hand hath made,
O let Thy gentler touches heal!

See how I pass my weary days
In sighs and groans; and when ’tis night
My bed is watered with my tears;
My grief consumes, and dims my sight.

Look, how the powers of nature mourn!
How long, Almighty God, how long?
When shall Thine hour of grace return?
When shall I make Thy grace my song?

I feel my flesh so near the grave,
My thoughts are tempted to despair;
But graves can never praise the Lord,
For all is dust and silence there.

Depart, ye tempters, from my soul;
And all despairing thoughts, depart;
My God, who hears my humble moan,
Will ease my flesh, and cheer my heart.

Lord, rebuke me not in anger,
Nor in wrath still chasten me,
Pity now and show me mercy,
Help thou my infirmity.

I am vexed; no longer tarry,
Nor the way of anger take.
Lord, O Lord, my soul deliver,
Save me for Thy mercy’s sake.

Shall the dead Thy Name remember?
Can they praise Thee from the grave?
Pity, Lord, my sad condition,
Lo, my bed with tears I lave.

I am worn and near exhausted,
Wasted now mine eye appears;
Part from me, ye adversaries,
God hath marked my falling tears.

God hath heard my supplication,
He will surely grant my plea,
Let mine enemies be routed,
Be defeated suddenly.

Have mercy, Lord, on me,
As Thou wert ever kind;
Let me, oppressed with loads of guilt,
Thy wonted mercy find.

Wash off my foul offense,
And cleanse me from my sin;
For I confess my crimes, and see
How great my guilt has been.

The joy Thy favor gives
Let me again obtain,
And Thy free Spirit’s firm support
My fainting soul sustain.

To God the Father, Son,
And Spirit glory be,
As ’twas, and is, and shall be so
To all eternity.

Heal me, O my Savior, heal;
Heal me as I suppliant kneel;
Heal me, and my pardon seal.

Fresh the wounds that sin hath made;
Hear the prayers I oft have prayed,
And in mercy send me aid.

Helpless, none can help me now;
Cheerless, none can cheer but Thou;
Suppliant, Lord, to Thee I bow.

Thou the true Physician art;
Thou, O Christ, canst health impart,
Binding up the bleeding heart.

Other comforters are gone;
Thou canst heal, and Thou alone;
Thou for all my sins atone.

Heal me, then, my Savior, heal:
Heal me, as I suppliant kneel;
To Thy mercy I appeal.

When my love to God grows weak,
[or When my love to Christ grows weak]
When for deeper faith I seek,
Then in thought I go to thee,
Garden of Gethsemane.

There I walk amid the shades
While the lingering twilight fades
See that suffering, friendless One,
Weeping, praying there alone.

When my love for man grows weak,
When for stronger faith I seek,
Hill of Calvary, I go
To thy scenes of fear and woe.

There behold His agony,
Suffered on the bitter tree;
See His anguish, see His faith,
Love triumphant still in death.

Then to life I turn again,
Learning all the worth of pain,
Learning all the might that lies
In a full self sacrifice.