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Zion mourns in fear and anguish
Zion mourns in fear and anguish,
Zion, city of our God.
“Ah,” she says, “how sore I languish,
Bowed beneath the
chast’ning rod!
For my God forsook me quite
And forgot my sorry plight
Mid these troubles now distressing,
Countless woes my soul
oppressing.
“Once,” she mourns, “He promised plainly
That His help should e’er be near;
Yet I now must seek Him vainly
In
my days of woe and fear.
Will His anger never cease?
Will He not renew His peace?
Will He not show forth compassion
And again forgive
transgression?”
“Let not Satan make thee craven;
He can threaten but not harm.
On My hands thy name is graven,
And thy
shield is My strong arm.
How, then, could it ever be
I should not remember thee,
Fail to build thy walls, My city,
And look down on thee with
pity?
“Ever shall Mine eyes behold thee;
On My bosom thou art laid.
Ever shall My love enfold thee;
Never shalt thou lack
Mine aid.
Neither Satan, war, nor stress
Then shall mar thy happiness:
With this blessèd consolation
Be thou firm in
tribulation.”
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