I. The pains that wait our fleeting breath,
Too oft my mournful thoughts employ;
Amid the gloomy shades of death,
The hope of heav'n, is life, is joy.

II. But ah! how soon the blissful ray
With guilt o'ershaded, disappears:
'Tis sin alone, that coulds my day,
'Tis sin alone, deserves my tears.

III. Yes, I have cause indeed to mourn,
When God conceals his radiant face;
And pray and long 'till he return,
With smiles of sweet forgiving grace.

IV. Then weep my eyes, complain my heart,
But mourn not, hopeless of relief;
For sov'reign mercy will impart
Its healing beams, to ease my grief.

V. The Savior pleads his dying blood,
Awake my hope, away my fears;
Through him I'll seek my absent God,
'Till his returning smile appears.