1 Oh, that I had a Bosom Friend,
To tell my Secrets to!
On whose Advice I might depend,
In ev'ry Thing I do.

2 How do I wander up and down,
And no one Pities me;
I seem a Stranger quite unknown,
A Son of Misery.

3 None lends an Ear to my Complaint,
Nor minds my Cries and Tears;
None comes to help me, though I faint,
Nor my vast Burthen bears.

4 While others live in Mirth and Ease
And feel no Want or Woe;
Through this dark, howling Wilderness,
I full of Sorrow go.

5 Oh! faithless Soul to Reason thus,
And Murmur without End;
Did Christ expire upon the Cross?
And is not he thy Friend?

6 Why dost thou envy carnal Men!
And think their State so blest?
How great Salvation hast thou seen?
And Jesus is thy Rest.

7 What can this lower World afford,
Compar'd with Gospel Grace,
Thy Happiness is in the Lord,
And thou shalt see his Face.

8 Can present Grief be counted great,
Compar'd with future Woes?
Will transient Pleasures seem so sweet
Compar'd with endless Joys?

9 How soon will God withdraw the Scene,
And burn the World he made!
Then Woe to carnal careless Men;
My Soul lift up thy Head.

10 The Saviour is thy real Friend,
Constant, and true. and good:
He will be with thee to the End,
And bring thee safe to God.

11 Why O my Soul, art thou so sad?
When will thy Sighs be o'er?
Rejoice in Jesus, and be glad,
Rejoice for Evermore.