Dwelling in Mesech

I

What a mournful life is mine,
Fill’d with crosses, pains, and cares!
Every work denied with sin,
Every step beset with snares.

II

If alone I pensive sit,
I myself can hardly bear;
If I pass along the street,
Sin and riot triumph there.

III

Jesus! how my heart is pain’d,
How it mourns for souls deceived⁠—
When I hear thy name profaned,
When I see thy Spirit grieved!

IV

When thy children’s griefs I view,
Their distress becomes my own;
All I hear or see or do
Makes me tremble, weep, and groan.

V

Mourning thus I long had been
When I heard my Saviour’s voice:
“Thou hast cause to mourn for sin,
But in me thou may’st rejoice.”

VI

This kind word dispell’d my grief,
Put to silence my complaints;
Though of sinners I am chief,
He has rank’d me with his saints.

VII

Though constrain’d to dwell a while
Where the wicked strive and brawl,
Let them frown⁠—so he but smile,
Heav’n will make amends for all.

VIII

There, believers, we shall rest,
Free from sorrow, sin, and fears;
Nothing there our peace molest
Through eternal rounds of years.

IX

Let us then the fight endure.⁠—
See our Captain looking down:
He will make the conquest sure,
And bestow the promised crown.