With years oppress’d, with sorrows worn,
Dejected, harass’d, sick, forlorn,
To thee, O God, I pray:
To thee my wither’d hands arise,
To thee I lift these failing eyes,
Oh! cast me not away!

Thy mercy heard my infant prayer,
Thy love, with all a mother’s care,
Sustain’d my childish days:
Thy goodness watch’d my ripening youth,
And form’d my heart to love thy truth,
And fill’d my lips with praise.

O Saviour! has thy grace declined?
Can years affect th’ Eternal Mind?
Or time its love decay?—
A thousand ages pass thy sight,
And all their long and weary flight
Is gone like yesterday.

Then, even in age and grief, thy name
Shall still my languid heart inflame,
And bow my faltering knee:
Oh! 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!

Whom have I in heaven but thee?
and there is none upon earth that I desire
in comparison of thee. (Psalms 73:25)

Lord of earth! thy forming hand
Well this beauteous frame hath plann’d,—
Woods that wave, and hills that tower,—
Ocean rolling in his power,—
All that strikes the gaze unsought,—
All that charms the lonely thought,—
Friendship,—gem transcending price,—
Love,—a flower from paradise,—
Yet, amidst this scene so fair,
Should I cease thy smile to share,
What were all its joys to me?
Whom have I on earth but Thee?

Lord of heaven! beyond our sight
Rolls a world of purer light;
There, in love’s unclouded reign,
Parted hands shall clasp again;
Martyrs there, and prophets high,
Blaze a glorious company;
While immortal music rings
From unnumbered seraph strings;—
O that world is passing fair;
Yet if thou wert absent there,
What were all its joys to me?
Whom have I in heaven but Thee?

Lord of earth and heaven! my breast
Seeks in thee its only rest;
I was lost; thy accents mild
Homeward lur’d thy wandering child;
I was blind; thy healing ray
Charm’d the long eclipse away;
Source of every joy I know,
Solace of my every wo,
O if once thy smile divine
Ceas’d upon my soul to shine,
What were earth or heaven to me?
Whom have I in each but thee?