1 Arise, my tenderest thoughts, arise,
To torrents melt my streaming eyes;
And thou, my heart, with anguish feel
Those evils which thou canst not heal.

2 See human nature sunk in shame;
See scandals pour'd on Jesus' name:
The Father wounded through the son;
The world abus'd; the soul undone.

3 See the short course of vain delight
Closing in everlasting night;—
In flames that no abatement know,
Tho' briny tears for ever flow.

4 My God, I feel the mournful scene;
My bowels yearn o'er dying men;
And fain my pity would reclaim,
And snatch the firebrands from the flame.

5 But feeble my compassion proves,
And can but weep, where most it loves;
Thy own all-saving arm employ,
And turn these drops of grief to joy.