Wilt Thou O Lord Regard My Tears


Wilt thou, O Lord, regard my Tears,
The Fruit of Guilt and Fear?
Me, who thy Justice have provok’d,
O will thy Mercy spare?

Yes: for the broken, contrite Heart
Saviour, thy Sufferings plead:
O quench not then the smoaking Flax,
Nor break the bruised Reed!

Thy poor unworthy Servant view,
Resign’d to thy Decree;
Ordain me or to live or die,
But live or die in thee.

Upon thy gracious Promise, Lord,
My humbled Soul is cast!
O bear me safe thro’ Life, thro’ Death,
And raise me up at last!

Low as this mortal Frame must lie
This mortal Frame shall sing,
Where is thy Victory, o Grave,
And where, o Death, thy Sting!