In Anger, Lord, Rebuke Me Not

In anger

Lord

re­buke me not

Withdraw the dread­ful storm;

Nor let Thy fu­ry grow so hot

Against a fee­ble worm.

My soul’s bowed down with hea­vy cares

My flesh with pain op­pressed;

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 con­sumed 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 sov­er­eign Word

Restores our faint­ing breath;

For si­lent graves praise not the Lord

Nor is He known in death.