Verse 1
Whither, ah, whither shall I go
I who my Lord no longer know,
No longer feel the sprinkled blood,
Or find my happiness in God!

Verse 2
Back to the world shall I return,
Or court the objects of my scorn,
Again for sensual pleasures pine
That sordid happiness of swine?

Verse 3
Will a good name, or fortune fair
The life-imbittering loss repair,
Allay this tumult in my breast,
Or give my troubled conscience rest?

Verse 4
Can I the perfect beauties trace
Of Jesus in an human face?
Can all the creature’s boasted art
Supply his absence in my heart?

Verse 5
No, Saviour, no: it cannot be
That I shoud rest, bereav’d of Thee,
Shoud sooth with toys this aching breast,
Or e’er forget that I was blest.

Verse 6
Here then I all my hopes forego
Of comfort, or repose below,
I yield my punishment to bear,
I sink in calmness of despair.

Verse 7
Away ye dreams of vain relief,
Nor once disturb my sacred grief,
Or hope t’ assuage my misery,
For God alone shall comfort me.

Verse 8
Till then I hug my load of pain,
And meekly sad thro’ life remain;
And if at last his mercy save,
I drop my burthen in the grave.