O Thou, Who Plead’st the Widow’s Cause

O Thou

who plead’st the wi­dow’s cause

Who on­ly canst re­pair my loss

And sweet­en all my woe

Distressed

dis­con­so­late

for­lorn

Let me in Thy dear bo­som mourn

Nor oth­er com­fort know.

A de­so­late soul

Thou know’st

I am;

For Thou hast called me by my name

Thy poor aff­lict­ed one

Hast in the fie­ry fur­nace tried

And chose a mourn­er for Thy bride

When all my joys were gone.

The soul whom more than life I loved

Thy jeal­ous mer­cy hath re­moved

To make me whol­ly Thine:

With stream­ing eyes the Hand I see

And bow me to the just de­cree

And bless the love Di­vine.

Still would I pour my mourn­ful tears

And all my so­lemn days

or years

In sac­red sad­ness spend;

Instant in strong ef­fec­tu­al pray­ers

Till death re­lease me from my cares

And faith in vi­sion end.

For this I in Thy Spir­it groan

Forsaken

com­fort­less

alone

I would with God ab­ide;

Cut off from man

to Je­sus cleave

And nev­er for a mo­ment leave

My heav’n­ly Bride­groom’s side.

Allow

dear Lord

the wi­dow’s plea

And oh! shut up my soul with Thee

Against the nup­ti­al feast;

Make rea­dy for that glo­ri­ous day

And then Thy spot­less bride con­vey

To Thine eter­nal rest.