1. From the deeps of grief and fear,
Lord, to Thee my soul repairs:
From Thy heaven bow down Thine
ear;
Let Thy mercy meet my prayers.
O if Thou mark’st what’s done amiss,
What soul so pure, can see Thy bliss?
2. But with Thee sweet mercy stands,
Sealing pardons, working fear:
Wait, my soul, wait on His hands;
Wait, mine eye, O wait, mine ear:
If He His eye or tongue affords,
Watch all His looks, catch all His
words.
3. As a watchman waits for day,
Looks for light, and looks again:
When the night grows old and grey,
For relief he calls again:
So look, so wait, so long mine eyes.
To see my Lord, my Sun, arise.
4. Wait, ye saints, wait on our Lord
From His tongue sweet mercy
flows:
Trust His cross, wait on His word;
On that tree redemption grows.
He will redeem His Israel
From sin and wrath, from death and
hell.
-Phineas Fletcher
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