A Thought in Affliction

Wilt thou, O Lord, regard my Tears. The Fruit of Guilt and Fear? Me, who thy Justice have provok'd, O will thy Mercy spare?

Yes: for the broken, contrite Heart Saviour, thy Sufferings plead: O quench not then the smoaking Flax, Nor break the bruised Read!

Thy poor unworthy Servant view, Resign'd to thy Decree; Ordain me or to live or die, But live or die in thee.

Upon thy gracious Promise, Lord, My humbled Soul is cast! O bear me safe thro' Life, thro' Death, And raise me up at last!

Low as this mortal Frame must lie This mortal Frame shall sing, Where is thy Victory, o Grave, And where, o Death, thy Sting!