My harp untuned, and laid aside,
To cheerful hours the harp belongs;
My cruel foes, insulting cried,
Come, sing us one of Zion’s songs.
Alas! when sinners, blindly bold,
At Zion scoff, and Zion’s king;
When zeal declines, and love grows cold,
Is this a day for me to sing?
Time was, whene’er the saints I met,
With joy and praise my bosom glowed;
But now, like Eli, sad I sit,
And tremble for the ark of God.
While thus to grief my soul gave way,
To see the work of God decline;
Methought I heard my Savior say,
“Dismiss thy fears, the ark is Mine.
“Though for a time I hide My face,
Rely upon My love and power;
Still wrestle at a throne of grace,
And wait for a reviving hour.
Take down thy long neglected harp,
I’ve seen thy tears, and heard thy prayer;
The winter season has been sharp,
But spring shall all its wastes repair.
Lord, I obey, my hopes revive,
Come join with me, ye saints, and sing;
Our foes in vain against us strive;
For God will help and healing bring.