With Years Oppressed With Sorrows Worn


With years opprest, with sorrow worn,
Dejected, harassed, sick, forlorn,
To Thee, O God, I pray:
To Thee my withered hands arise,
To Thee I left these failing eyes;
O cast me not away!

Thy mercy heard my infant prayer:
Thy Love, with all a mother’s care,
Sustained my childish days:
Thy goodness watched my ripening youth,
And formed my heart to love Thy truth,
And filled my lips with praise.

O Saviour, has Thy grace declined?
Can years affect the eternal Mind,
Or time its Love decay?
A thousand ages in Thy sight,
And all their long and weary flight,
Are gone like yesterday.

Then, even in age and grief, Thy Name
Shall still my languid heart inflame,
And bow my faltering knee:
O yet this bosom feels the fire;
This trembling hand and drooping lyre
Have yet a strain for Thee!

Yes, broken, tuneless, still, O Lord,
This voice, transported, shall record
Thy goodness, tried so long;
Till, sinking slow with calm decay,
Its feeble murmurs melt away
Into a seraph’s song.