Job 23:8, 9, 10 Tho' I groan beneath thy frown, Hence I will not cannot fly; Tho' thy justice cast me down, At thy mercy-seat I ly; Let me here my sentence meet, Let me perish at thy feet! Job xxiii. 8, 9, 10. Forward I now in duties go, But O! My Saviour is not there! Heavy he makes me drive, and slow, Without the chariot-wheels of prayer. I look to former times, and strain The footsteps of my God to trace; Backward I go (but still in vain) To find the tokens of his grace. Surrounded by his power I stand, His work on other souls I see, He deals his gifts on either hand, But still he hides himself from me. Groaning I languish at his stay, But he regards my every groan; Dark and disconsolate my way; But still my way to him is known.