Save me, O God, the swelling floods
Break in upon my soul;
I sink, and sorrows o’er my head
Like mighty waters roll.
I cry till
all my voice be gone,
In tears I waste the day:
My God, behold my longing eyes,
And shorten Thy delay.
They hate my soul without a cause,
And still their number grows
More than the hairs around my head,
And mighty are my foes.
’Twas then I paid that dreadful
That men could never pay,
And gave those honors to Thy law
Which sinners took away.
Thus in the great Messiah’s name,
The royal prophet mourns;
Thus he awakes our hearts to grief,
And gives us joy by turns.
Now shall the saints rejoice, and
Salvation in My Name;
For I have borne their heavy load
Of sorrow, pain, and shame.
Grief, like a garment, clothed Me
And sackcloth was My dress,
While I procured for naked souls
A robe of righteousness.
Amongst My brethren and the Jews
I like a stranger stood,
And bore their vile reproach, to bring
The Gentiles near to God.
I came in sinful mortals’ stead,
To do My Father’s will;
Yet when I cleansed My Father’s house,
They scandalized My zeal.
My fasting and My holy groans
Were made the drunkard’s song;
But God, from His celestial throne,
Heard My complaining tongue.
He saved Me from the dreadful deep,
Nor let My soul be drowned;
He raised and fixed My sinking feet
On well-established ground.
’Twas in a most accepted hour
My prayer arose on high;
And for My sake my God shall hear
The dying sinner’s cry.