Verse 1
Why dost thou, Lord, conceal thy face,
With-hold the joyous sense of grace,
And reckon me thy foe?
If sin provokes thee to depart,
And keeps thy presence from my heart,
The secret evil shew.
Verse 2
Still I enquire and weep, and pray;
Thy comforts dost thou take away,
To punish, or to prove?
I wait thy mind to comprehend,
I long to answer all the end
Of thy mysterious love.