When Hannah, pressed with grief,Poured forth her soul in prayer;She quickly found relief,And left her burden there:Like her, in every trying case,Let us approach the throne of grace.
When she began to pray,Her heart was pained and sad;But ere she went away,Was comforted and glad:In trouble, what a resting place,Have they who know the throne of grace!
Though men and devils rage,And threaten to devour;The saints, from age to age,Are safe from all their pow’r:Fresh strength they gain to run their race,By waiting at the throne of grace.
Eli her case mistook,How was her spirit movedBy his unkind rebuke?But God her cause approved.We need not fear a creature’s face,While welcome at the throne of grace.
She was not filled with wine,As Eli rashly thought;But with a faith divine,And found the help she sought:Though men despise and call us base,Still let us ply the throne of grace.
Men have not pow’r or skill,With troubled souls to bear;Though they express good-will,Poor comforters they are:But swelling sorrows sink apace,When we approach the throne of grace.
Numbers before have tried,And found the promise true;Nor one been yet denied,Then why should I or you?Let us by faith their footsteps trace,And hasten to the throne of grace.
As fogs obscure the light,And taint the morning air;But soon are put to flight,If the bright sun appear;Thus Jesus will our troubles chase,By shining from the throne of grace.
Lord, in the morning Thou shalt hearMy voice ascending high;To Thee will I direct my prayer,To Thee lift up mine eye.
Up to the hills, where Christ is goneTo plead for all His saints,Presenting at His Father’s throne,Our songs and our complaints.
Thou art a God before Whose sightThe wicked shall not stand;Sinners shall ne’er be Thy delight,Nor dwell at Thy right hand.
But to Thy house will I resort,To taste Thy mercies there;I will frequent Thine holy court,And worship in Thy fear.
O may Thy Spirit guide my feetIn ways of righteousness!Make ev’ry path of duty straightAnd plain before my face
My watchful enemies combineTo tempt my feet astray;They flatter, with a base designTo make my soul their prey.
Lord, crush the serpent in the dust,And all his plots destroy;While those that in Thy mercy trust,Forever shout for joy.
The men that love and fear Thy NameShall see their hopes fulfill’d;The mighty God will compass themWith favor as a shield.
Sweetly the holy hymnBreaks on the morning air;Before the world with smoke is dimWe meet to offer prayer.
While flowers are wet with dews,Dew of our souls, descend:Ere yet the sun the day renews,O Lord, Thy Spirit send.
Upon the battlefield,Before the fight begins,We seek, O Lord, Thy sheltering shield,To guard us from our sins.
Ere yet our vessel sailsUpon the stream of dayWe plead, O Lord, for heavenly galesTo speed us on our way!
On the lone mountain side,Before the morning’s light,The Man of sorrows wept and cried,And rose refreshed with might.
Oh, hear us then, for weAre very weak and frail,We make the Savior’s Name our plea,And surely must prevail.