O That I Knew the Secret Place

O that I knew the sec­ret place

Where I might find my God!

I’d spread my wants be­fore His face

And pour my woes abroad.

I’d tell Him how my sins arise;

What sor­rows I sus­tain;

How grace de­cays

and com­fort dies

And leaves my heart in pain.

He knows what ar­gu­ments I’d take

To wres­tle with my God;

I’d plead for His own mer­cy’s sake

And for my Sav­ior’s blood.

Arise

my soul

from deep dis­tress

And ban­ish ev­ery fear;

He calls Thee to His throne of grace

To spread Thy sor­rows there.