In mer­cy, not in wrath, re­buke
Thy fee­ble worm, my God!
My spi­rit dreads Thine an­gry look,
And trem­bles at Thy rod.

Have mer­cy, Lord, for I am weak,
Regard my hea­vy groans;
O let Thy voice of com­fort speak,
And heal my brok­en bones!

By day my busy beat­ing head
Is filled with anx­ious fears;
By night, up­on my rest­less bed,
I weep a flood of tears.

Thus de­so­late I sit and mourn,
Mine eyes grow dull with grief;
How long, my Lord, ere Thou re­turn,
And bring my soul re­lief?

O come and show Thy pow­er to save,
And spare my faint­ing breath;
For who can praise Thee in the grave,
Or sing Thy name in death?

Hear Sa­tan, cru­el and envious foe,
Insult me in my pain;
He smiles to see me brought so low,
And tells me hope is vain.

But hence, thou ene­my, depart!
Nor tempt me to des­pair;
My Sav­ior comes to cheer my heart,
The Lord has heard my pray­er.