Why has my God my soul forsook, Nor will a smile afford? (Thus David once in anguish spoke, And thus our dying Lord.) | Though 'tis thy chief delight to dwell Among thy praising saints, Yet thou canst hear a groan as well, And pity our complaints. | Our fathers trusted in thy name, And great deliv'rance found; But I'm a worm, despised of men, And trodden to the ground. | Shaking the head, they pass me by, And laugh my soul to scorn; "In vain he trusts in God," they cry,. "Neglected and forlorn." | But thou art he who formed my flesh By thine almighty word; And since I hung upon the breast, My hope is in the Lord. | Why will my Father hide his face, When foes stand threat'ning round, In the dark hour of deep distress, And not a helper found? | Behold thy darling left among The cruel and the proud, As bulls of Bashan, fierce and strong, As lions roaring loud. | From earth and hell my sorrows meet To multiply the smart; They nail my hands, they pierce my feet, And try to vex my heart. | Yet if thy sovereign hand let loose The rage of earth and hell, Why will my heav'nly Father bruise The Son he loves so well? | My God, if possible it be, Withhold this bitter cup But I resign my will to thee, And drink the sorrows up. | My heart dissolves with pangs unknown, In groans I waste my breath; Thy heavy hand has brought me down Low as the dust of death. | Father, I give my spirit up, And trust it in thy hand; My dying flesh shall rest in hope, And rise at thy command. | |