Why should my pining spirit be
So long a stranger to my Lord,
When promises divinely free,
Invite me in his sacred word?

Does he not bid the weary come,
And call the wretched sons of grief,
To him their refuge and their home,
Their heavenly friend, their sure relief?

Yes by the kindest, tenderest names,
My Lord invites my humble trust;
My diffidence he gently blames,
How soft the censure and how just.

This trembling frame worn out with pains
On thee my guardian God depends;
And while my fainting heart complains,
To thee the plaintive groan ascends.

Though all the powers of nature fail,
And life’s pale trembling lamp decline;
Thy grace can bid my faith prevail,
Can give me fortitude divine.

That grace which bids my hope aspire
Can every anxious fear remove,
Can give me all my soul’s desire,
The full assurance of thy love.

Added by

Blessy Christlin


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