1 Why should a living man complain,
Of deep distress within;
Since ev'ry sigh and ev'ry pain,
Is but the fruit of sin.

2 No Lord, I'll patiently submit,
Nor ever dare rebel;
Yet sure I may, here at thy feet,
My painful feelings tell.

3 Thou seest what floods of sorrow rise,
And beat upon my soul;
One trouble to another cries,
Billows on billows roll,

4 From fear to hope, and hope to fear,
My ship-wreck'd soul is tost;
'Till I am tempted in despair,
To give up all for lost.

5 Yet thro' the stormy clouds I'll look,
Once more to thee, my God;
O fix my soul upon a rock,
Beyond the raging flood.

6 One look of mercy from thy face,
Would set my heart at ease,
One all creating word of grace,
Will make the tempest cease.