Thou weepest o'er Jerusalem,

Lord Jesus, bitter tears;

But deepest comfort lies in them

For us, whose sins have filled our soul with tears:

Since they that tell,

When sinners turn to Thee Thou lov'st it well,

And surely wilt efface, of Thy unbounded grace,

All the misdeeds that on our conscience dwell.

When God's just wrath and anger burn

Against me for my sin,

To these sad tears of Thine I turn,

And watching them fresh hope and courage win;

For God doth prize

These drops so greatly, that before His eyes

Who sprinkles o'er his soul with them is clean and whole,

And from his sorrows' depth new joy shall rise.

Earth is the home of tears and woe,

Where we must often weep,

Fighting the world our mighty foe,

Whose enmity to Thee doth never sleep;

My heart is torn

Afresh each day by her fierce rage and scorn,

But in my saddest hours, I think upon those showers

That tell how Thou hast all our sorrows borne.

Thou countest up my tears and sighs,

E'en were they numberless;

Not one is hidden from thy eyes,

Thou ne'er forgettest me in my distress,

But when they rain

Before Thee, Thou dost quickly turn again,

Hast pity on my woe, and makest me to know

What sweetest joy lies hid in sorest pain.

We sow in tears; but let us keep

Our faith in God, and trust Him still,

Yonder our harvest we shall reap,

Where gladness every heart and voice shall fill.

Such joy is there

No mortal tongue its glory can declare,

A joy that shall endure, unchanging deep and pure,

That shall be ours, if here the cross we bear.

O Christ, I thank Thee for Thy tears;

Those tears have won for me

That I shall wear, through endless years,

A crown of joy before my God and Thee.

All weeping o'er,

Up to Thy chosen saints I once shall soar,

And there Thy pity praise, in more befitting lays,

Thou glory of Thy Church, for evermore.