Verse 1
Gracious soul, to whom are given
Holy hungrings after heaven,
Restless breathings, earnest moans,
Deep, unutterable groans,
Agonies of strong desire,
Love’s supprest, unconscious fire;
Verse 2
Turn again to God thy rest,
Jesus hath pronounc’d thee blest:
Humbly to thy Jesus turn
Comforter of all that mourn:
Happy mourner, hear, and see,
Claim the promise made to thee.
Verse 3
Lift to him thy weeping eye,
Heaven behind the cloud descry:
If with Christ thou suffer here,
When his glory shall appear,
Christ his suffering son shall own;
Thine the cross, and thine the crown.
Verse 4
Just thro’ him, behold thy way
Shining to the perfect day:
Dying thus to all beneath,
Fashion’d to thy Saviour’s death,
Him the resurrection prove,
Rais’d to all the life of love.
Verse 5
What if here a while thou grieve,
God shall endless comfort give:
Sorrow may a night endure,
Joy returns as day-light sure:
Praise shall then thy life employ:
Sow in tears, and reap in joy.[1]
Verse 6
Doth thy Lord prolong his stay?
Mercy wills the kind delay:
Hides he still his lovely face?
Lo! He waits to shew his grace:
Seems he absent from thy heart?
’Tis, that he may ne’er depart.
Verse 7
Gently will he lead the weak,
Bruised reeds he ne’er will break;
Touch’d with sympathizing care,
Thee he in his arms shall bear,
Bless with late but lasting peace,
Fill with all his righteousness.
Verse 8
Couldst thou the Redeemer see,
How his bowels yearn on thee!
How he marks with pitying eye,
Hears his new-born children cry,
Bears what every member bears,
Groans their groans, and weeps their tears!
Verse 9
Couldst thou know, as thou art known,
Jesus would appear thy own:
Most abandon’d tho’ it seem,
Darkly safe thy soul with him;
Farthest when from God remov’d,
Nearest then, and most belov’d.
Verse 10
Feebly then thy hands lift up,
Hope, amidst despairing, hope:
Stand beneath thy load of grief,
Stagger not thro’ unbelief;
Make thy own election sure,
Faithful to the end endure.
Verse 11
God, to keep thee safe from harms,
Spreads his everlasting arms,
Feeds with secret strength divine,
Waits to whisper “Thou art mine!”
His that thou may’st ever be,
Now he hides himself from thee.
Verse 12
Meekly then persist to mourn,
Soon he will, he must return:
Call on him; he hears thy cry,
Soon he will, he must draw nigh;
This the hope, which nought can move,
God is truth, and God is love!
[1] An earlier 1739 version of this hymn gave the line “Sown in tears, and reap’d in joy.”