The world He made He still sus­tains,
When then dost thou, O Is­ra­el, say,
My God for­gets His peo­ple’s pains;
His Ja­cob is a cast­away?

Repent thee of thy peev­ish haste,
Recall the rash des­pond­ing word,
No more com­plain, The hour is past,
And I have wea­ried out my Lord.

Hast thou not heard, hast thou not known,
The ev­er­last­ing God, that laid
The earth’s foun­da­tions, rules alone,
Nor faints to bear the world He made?

Jehovah is un­change­able,
His ways, and thought, are not as ours,
He cheers the lang­uid souls that fail,
And quick­ens all their droop­ing pow­ers.

Gently He lifts the fall­en up,
He gives them faith, and faith’s in­crease,
Revives their fee­ble, dy­ing hope,
And fills with love, and joy and peace.

Blasted, the vi­gor of the young
Shall fade, and sud­den­ly de­cay;
The bold, and con­fi­dent, and strong,
Shall fear, des­pair, and die away.

But they who wait up­on the Lord
Shall sure­ly find His pro­mise true,
Receive the quick­en­ing pow­er­ful Word,
And, born of God, their strength re­new.

Their will­ing souls from sin set free,
Shall swift­ly in His sta­tutes move,
Shall walk in glo­ri­ous li­ber­ty,
Shall fly up­on the wings of love.

With ea­gle’s wings their souls shall rise,
Steady and strong to Heav­en soar,
Regain on earth their na­tive skies,
And faint, and fall, and sin no more.