When Hannah, Pressed with Grief

When Han­nah

pressed with grief

Poured forth her soul in pray­er;

She quick­ly found re­lief

And left her bur­den there:

Like her

in ev­ery try­ing case

Let us ap­proach the throne of grace.

When she be­gan to pray

Her heart was pained and sad;

But ere she went away

Was com­fort­ed and glad:

In trou­ble

what a rest­ing place

Have they who know the throne of grace!

Though men and de­vils rage

And threat­en to de­vour;

The saints

from age to age

Are safe from all their pow­er:

Fresh strength they gain to run their race

By wait­ing at the throne of grace.

Eli her case mis­took

How was her spir­it moved

By his un­kind rebuke?

But God her cause ap­proved.

We need not fear a crea­ture’s face

While wel­come at the throne of grace.

She was not filled with wine

As Eli rash­ly thought;

But with a faith di­vine

And found the help she sought:

Though men des­pise and call us base

Still let us ply the throne of grace.

Men have not pow­er or skill

With trou­bled souls to bear;

Though they ex­press good-will

Poor com­fort­ers they are:

But swell­ing sor­rows sink apace

When we ap­proach the throne of grace.

Numbers be­fore have tried

And found the pro­mise true;

Not one been yet de­nied

Then why should I or you?

Let us by faith their foot­steps trace

And hast­en to the throne of grace.

As fogs ob­scure the light

And taint the morn­ing air;

But soon are put to flight

If the bright sun ap­pear;

Thus Je­sus will our trou­bles chase

By shin­ing from the throne of grace.