Gracious soul, to whom are given

Holy hungerings after heaven,

Restless breathings, earnest moans,

Deep, unutterable groans,

Agonies of strong desire,

Love’s suppress’d, unconscious fire;

Turn again to God thy Rest,

Jesus hath pronounced thee blest:

Humbly to thy Jesus turn,

Comforter of all that mourn:

Happy mourner, hear, and see,

Claim the promise made to thee.

Lift to Him thy weeping eye,

Heaven behind the cloud descry:

If with Christ thou suffer here,

When His glory shall appear,

Christ His suffering son shall own;

Thine the cross, and thine the crown.

Just through Him, behold thy way

Shining to the perfect day:

Dying thus to all beneath,

Fashion’d to Thy Saviour’s death,

Him the Resurrection prove,

Raised to all the life of love.

What if here awhile thou grieve,

God shall endless comfort give:

Sorrow may a night endure,

Joy returns as daylight sure:

Praise shall then thy life employ:

Sow in tears, and reap in joy.

Doth thy Lord prolong His stay?

Mercy wills the kind delay:

Hides He still His lovely face?

Lo! He waits to show His grace:

Seems He absent from Thy heart?

’Tis, that He may ne’er depart.

Gently will He lead the weak,

Bruised reeds He ne’er will break;

Touch’d with sympathizing care,

Thee He in His arms shall bear,

Bless with late but lasting peace,

Fill with all His righteousness.

Couldst Thou the Redeemer see,

How His bowels yearn on thee!

How He marks with pitying eye,

Hears His new-born children cry,

Bears what every member bears,

Groans their groans, and weeps their tears!

Couldst thou know, as thou art known,

Jesus would appear thy own:

Most abandon’d though it seem,

Darkly safe thy soul with Him;

Farthest when from God removed,

Nearest then, and most beloved.

Feebly then thy hands lift up,

Hope, amidst despairing hope:

Stand beneath thy load of grief,

Stagger not through unbelief:

Make thy own election sure,

Faithful to the end endure.

Meekly then persist to mourn;

Soon He will, He must return:

Call on Him; He hears thy cry;

Soon He will, He must draw nigh:

This the hope, which nought can move,

God is Truth, and God is Love!