With bended knees, and aching eyes,

Weary and faint, to Thee my cries,

To Thee my tears, my groans I send:

O, when shall my complainings end?

Wither’d my heart, like barren ground

Accursed of God; my head turns round,

My throat is hoarse: I faint, I fall,

Yet falling still for pity call.

Eternal streams of pity flow

From Thee their Source to earth below:

Mothers are kind, because Thou art,

Thy tenderness o’erflows their heart.

Lord of my soul, bow down Thine ear,

Hear, Bowels of Compassion, hear!

O, give not to the winds my prayer:

Thy Name, Thy hallow’d Name is there!

Look on my sorrows, mark them well,

The shame, the pangs, the fires I feel:

Consider, Lord; Thine ear incline!

Thy Son hath made my suff’rings Thine.

Thou, Jesu, on the accursed tree

Didst bow Thy dying head for me:

Incline it now! Who made the ear,

Shall He, shall He forget to hear?

See Thy poor dust, in pity see;

It stirs, it creeps, it aims at Thee!

Haste, save it from the greedy tomb!

Come!—every atom bids Thee come!

Tis Thine to help! Forget me not!

O, be Thy mercy ne’er forgot!

Lock’d is Thy ear? Yet still my plea

May speed; for Mercy keeps the key.

Thou tarriest, while I sink, I die,

And fall to nothing! Thou on high

Seest me undone. Yet am I styled

By Thee (lost as I am) Thy child!

Didst Thou for this forsake Thy throne?

Where are Thy ancient mercies gone?

Why should my pain my guilt survive,

And sin be dead, yet sorrow live?

Yet sin is dead; and yet abide

Thy promises; they speak, they chide.

They in Thy bosom pour my tears,

And my complaints present as theirs.

Hear, Jesu! hear my broken heart!

Broken so long, that every part

Hath got a tongue that ne’er shall cease,

Till Thou pronounce, “Depart in peace.”

My Love, my Saviour, hear my cry;

By these Thy feet at which I lie!

Pluck out Thy dart! regard my sighs;

Now heal my soul, or now it dies.