Hymnal: Doctor Watts's imitation of the Psalms of David, to which is added a collection of hymns; the whole applied to the state of the Christian Church in general (3rd ed.) #176 (1786) Topics: Christ the eternal Creator; Christ his Godhead; Church restored by prayer; Complaint general; God Eternal and Man mortal; Hearing of Prayer and Salvation; Man mortal and Christ eternal; Mortality and God's eternity; Prayer heard and Zion restored; Saints die but, Christ lives; Christ the eternal Creator; Christ his Godhead; Church restored by prayer; Complaint general; God Eternal and Man mortal; Hearing of Prayer and Salvation; Man mortal and Christ eternal; Mortality and God's eternity; Prayer heard and Zion restored; Saints die but, Christ lives First Line: Hear me, O God, nor hide thy face Lyrics: 1 Hear me, O God, nor hide thy face,
But answer, lest I die;
Hast thou not built a throne of grace,
To hear when sinners cry?
2 My days are wasted like the smoke
Dissolving in the air;
My strength is dry'd, my heart is broke,
And sinking in dispair.
3 My spirits flag like withering grass
Burnt with excessive heat:
In secret groans my minutes pass,
And I forget to eat.
4 As on some lonely building’s top,
The sparrow tells her moan,
Far from the tents of joy and hope
I sit and grieve alone.
5 My soul is like a wilderness
Where beasts of midnight howl;
Where the sad raven finds her place,
And where the screaming owl.
6 Dark dismal thoughts and boding fears
Dwell in my troubled breast;
While sharp reproaches wound my ears,
Nor give my spirit rest.
7 My cup is mingled with my woes,
And tears are my repast;
My daily bread, like ashes grows
Unpleasant to my taste.
8 Sense can afford no real joy
To souls that feel thy frown;
Lord ’twas thy hand advanc'd me high
Thy hand hath cast me down.
9 My looks like wither'd leaves appear;
And life’s declining light
Grows faint as evening-shadows are,
That vanish into night.
10 But thou forever art the same,
O my eternal God;
Ages to come shall know thy name,
And spread thy works abroad.
11 Thou wilt arise, and show thy face,
Nor will my Lord delay,
Beyond th’ appointed hour of grace,
That long expected day.
12 He hears his saints, he knows their cry,
And by mysterious ways,
Redeems the prisoners, doom'd to die,
And fills their tongues with praise. Scripture: Psalm 102:20-21 Languages: English
A prayer of the afflicted
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