In anger, Lord, rebuke me not;
Withdraw the dreadful storm;
Nor let Thy fury grow so hot
Against a feeble worm.

My soul�s bow�d down with heavy cares,
My flesh with pain oppress�d;
My couch is witness to my tears,
My tears forbid my rest.

Sorrow and pain wear out my days;
I waste the night with cries,
Counting the minutes as they pass,
Till the slow morning rise.

Shall I be still tormented more?
Mine eye consum�d with grief?
How long, my God, how long before
Thine hand afford relief?

He hears when dust and ashes speak,
He pities all our groans;
He saves us for His mercy�s sake,
And heals our broken bones.

The virtue of His sov�reign Word
Restores our fainting breath;
For silent graves praise not the Lord,
Nor is He known in death.