Thy dreadful anger, Lord, restrain, And spare a wretch forlorn

Verse 1

Thy dreadful anger, Lord, restrain, and spare a wretch forlorn; Correct me not in thy fierce wrath, too heavy to be borne.

Verse 2

Have mercy, Lord; for I grow faint, unable to endure The anguish of my aching bones, which thou alone can'st cure.

Verse 3

My tortur'd flesh distracts my mind, and fills my soul with grief; But, Lord, how long wilt thou delay to grant me thy relief?

Verse 4

Thy wonted goodness, Lord, repeat, and ease my troubled soul: Lord, for thy wondrous mercy's sake, vouchsafe to make me whole.

Verse 5

For after death no more can I thy glorious acts proclaim; No pris'ner of the silent grave can magnify thy Name.

Verse 6

Quite tir'd with pain, with groaning faint, no hope of ease I see; The night, that quiets common griefs, is spent in tears by me.

Verse 7

My beauty fades, my sight grows dim, my eyes with weakness close; Old-age o'ertakes me, whilst I think on my insulting foes.

Verse 8

Depart, ye wicked; in my wrongs ye shall no more rejoice; For God, I find, accepts my tears, and listens to my voice.

Verse 9

He hears, and grants my humble pray'r; and they that wish my fall, Shall blush and rage to see that God protects me from them all.