To thee, O Lord, I raise my cries

Verse 1

To thee, O Lord, I raise my cries; My fervent pray'r in mercy hear; For ruin waits my trembling soul, If thou refuse a gracious ear.

Verse 2

When suppliant tow'rd thy holy hill, I left my mournful hands to pray, Afford thy grace, nor drive me still, With impious hypocrites away.

Verse 3

To sons of falsehood, that despise The works and wonders of thy reign, Thy vengeance give the due reward, And sinks their souls to endless pain.

Verse 4

But, ever blessed by the Lord, Whose mercy hears my mournful voice, My heart, that trusted in his word, In his salvation shall rejoice.

Verse 5

Let ev'ry saint, in sore distress, By faith approach his Saviour, God: Then grant, O Lord, thy pard'ning grace, And feed thy church with heav'nly food.