1 In anger, Lord, rebuke me not, Withdraw the dreadful storm; Nor let thy fury grow so hot Against a feeble worm.
2 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.
3 Sorrow and pain wear out my days; I waste the night with cries, Counting the minutes as they pass, Till the slow morning rise.
4 Shall I be still tormented more? Mine eye consum'd with grief? How long, my God, how long before Thine hand afford relief?
5 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.
6 The virtue of his sovereign word Restores our fainting breath; For silent graves praise not the Lord, Nor is he known in death.