O that I knew the secret place

1 O that I knew the secret place
Where I might find my God!
I'd spread my wants before his face,
And pour my woes abroad.

2 I'd tell him how my sins arise,
What sorrows I sustain,
How grace decays, and comfort dies,
And leaves my heart in pain:

3 I'd say how flesh and sense rebel,
What inward foes combine,
With this vain world and powers of hell,
To vex this heart of mine.

4 He knows what arguments I'd take
To wrestle with my God:
I'd plead for his own mercy's sake,
And for my Savior's blood.

5 My God will pity my complaints,
And heal my broken bones;
He takes the meaning of his saints,
The language of their groans.

6 Arise my soul from deep distress,
And banish every fear;
He calls thee to his throne of grace,
To spread thy sorrows there.

The Christian's duty, exhibited in a series of hymns, 1791