1108

“I waited patiently for the Lord.” Ps. 40. 1; 27. 13, 14

J. Newton    C.M.

1
Breathe from the gentle south, O Lord,
And cheer me from the north;
Blow on the treasures of thy word,
And call the spices forth.

2
Cold as I feel this heart of mine,
Yet since I feel it so,
It yields some hope of life divine
Within, however low.

3
I seem forsaken and alone;
I hear the lion roar;
And every door is shut but one,
And that is mercy’s door.

4
Here would I wait, and hope, and pray,
Till needed mercy come;
But lest I faint, or turn away,
Lord, do not tarry long.