The Saviour Hides his Face! by John Newton

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I: The Saviour hides his face! / My spirit thirsts to prove / Renew'd supplies of pard'ning grace, / And never-fading love.

II: The favour'd souls who know / What glories shine in him / Pant for his presence, as the roe / Pants for the living stream.

III: What trifles tease me now!

They swarm like summer flies, / They cleave to every thing I do, / And swim before my eyes.

IV: How dull the Sabbath-day, / Without the Sabbath's Lord!

How toilsome then to sing and pray / And wait upon the word?

V: Of all the truths I hear, / How few delight my taste!

I glean a berry here and there, / But mourn the vintage past.

VI: Yet let me (as I ought)

Still hope to be supplied; / No pleasure else is worth a thought, / Nor shall I be denied.

VII: Though I am but a worm, / Unworthy of his care, / The Lord will my desire perform, / And grant me all my pray'r.

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