“I will not leave you comfortless.” John 14. 18

Gospel Mag., 1777                        L.M.

O God of grace, of love immense,
 How free thy favours to dispense!
 I to thy mercy-seat repair,
 Since thou hast said, “I’ll meet thee there.”

Thou seest my soul by sin oppressed;
 O come, and give the weary rest;
 My base backslidings kindly heal,
 Apply the balm, thy love reveal.

Should I go mourning to the grave,
 ’Twere just; yet, Lord, from darkness save.
 Does not thy tender word express,
 “I will not leave you comfortless”?

Burst through the clouds, O Source of Light!
 Let joy succeed the weeping night;
 Thy beams shall make my desert blow,
 The fruit appear, the spices flow.

What thou hast promised I implore,
 Supplies from thy exhaustless store.
 O righteous Father, just and true,
 Give me both grace and glory too.

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