Amidst thy wrath remember love,

Restore thy servant, Lord;

Nor let a Father's chast'ning prove

Like an avenger's sword.

Thine arrows stick within my heart,

My flesh is sorely pressed;

Between the sorrow and the smart,

My spirit finds no rest.

My sins a heavy load appear,

And o'er my head are gone;

Too heavy they for me to bear,

Too hard for me t' atone.

My thoughts are like a troubled sea,

My head still bending down;

And I go mourning all the day,

Beneath my Father's frown.

Lord, I am weak and broken sore,

None of my powers are whole:

The inward anguish makes me roar,

The anguish of my soul.

All my desire to thee is known,

Thine eye counts every tear;

And every sigh, and every groan,

Is noticed by thine ear.

Thou art my God, my only hope;

My God will hear my cry;

My God will bear my spirit up,

When Satan bids me die.

[My foot is ever apt to slide,

My foes rejoice to see 't;

They raise their pleasure and their pride

When they supplant my feet.

But I'll confess my guilt to thee,

And grieve for all my sin;

I'll mourn how weak my graces be,

And beg support divine.

My God, forgive my follies past,

And be for ever nigh;

O Lord of my salvation, haste,

Before thy servant die.]