Forsaken, Yet Hoping

Happy the hours

the gold­en days

When I could call my Je­sus mine

And sit and view His smil­ing face;

And melt in plea­sures all-divine.

Near to my heart

with­in my arms

He lay

till sin de­filed my breast

Till brok­en vows

and earth­ly charms

Tired and pro­voked my heav­en­ly guest.

And now He’s gone (O migh­ty woe!)

Gone from my soul

and hides His love!

Curse on you

sins

that grieved Him so

Ye sins

that forced Him to re­move.

Break

break

my heart; com­plain

my tongue;

Hither

my friends

your sor­rows bring:

Angels

as­sist my dole­ful song;

If you have e’er a mourn­ing string;

But

ah! your joys are ev­er nigh

Ever His love­ly face you see;

While my poor spir­it pants to die

And groans

for Thee

my God

for Thee.

Yet let my hope look thro’ my tears

And spy afar His roll­ing throne;

His cha­ri­ot thro’ the cleav­ing spheres

Shall bring the bright Be­lov­èd down.

Swift as a roe flies o’er the hills

My soul springs out to meet Him high

Then the fair Con­quer­or turns His wheels

And climbs the man­sions of the sky.

There smil­ing joy for ev­er reigns

No more the tur­tle leaves the dove.

Farewell to jeal­ous­ies

and pains

And all the ills of ab­sent love.