Spiritual Longing. Ps. 119. 174; 55. 6

J. Berridge      148th

Jesus, I long for thee,
And sigh for Canaan’s shore,
Thy lovely face to see,
And all my warfare o’er;
Here billows break upon my breast
And brooding sorrows steal my rest.

[I mourn to see thy blood
So foully trampled on;
And sinners, daring God,
To swift destruction run;
With heedless heart and simpering face,
They dance the hell-ward road apace.]

I pant, I groan, I grieve
For my untoward heart;
How full of doubts I live,
Though full of grace thou art!
What poor returns I make to thee
For all the mercy shown to me!

And must I ever smart,
A child of sorrows here?
Yet, Lord, be near my heart,
To soothe each rising tear;
Then at thy bleeding cross I’ll stay,
And sweetly weep my life away.

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