Wesley Corpus

De Profundis Out of the deeps to thee, O Lord! I make my mournful cry; Incline thine ear unto my voice, Thy ready help apply. Who may the trial, Lord, abide, If thou should'st be severe; But pard'ning love with thee is found, And, for we hope, we fear. I wait for God, my soul does wait, And in his word I trust: His word he surely shall fulfil, And raise me from the dust. In death's uncomfortable shade I to the Lord will cry; Till the day dawn upon my soul, And day-star from on high. How does the whole creation groan, To see that happy day! To be renew'd, when sin and pain, And death no more shall stay! O Israel, on th' Almighty Lord Thy whole affiance place; How good, how plentiful is he In kind redeeming grace!