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tr., John Brownlie



My soul doth wait on God,

From Him my help proceeds;

His mercy is exceeding broad,

To overtake my needs.


He gives His pardoning grace,

When I my sin confess;

Nor ever hides from me His face

In my distressfulness.


The Spirit of all power,

Most freely He bestows;

And I am strong in evil hour,

When pressed by direst foes.


O, He has gifts in store,

More rich than wealth commands;

And when His pity I implore,

He fills my empty hands.


God, Thou art good and kind,

And full of tender grace;

Have me forever in Thy mind,

Nor hide from me Thy face.

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