Poem by Isaac Watts

Psalm 6

Complaint in sickness.

In anger, Lord, rebuke me not;
Withdraw the dreadful storm;
Nor let thy fury grow so hot
Against a feeble worm.

My soul's bowed down with heavy cares,
My flesh with pain oppressed;
My couch is witness to my tears,
My tears forbid my rest.

Sorrow and pain wear out my days,
I waste the night with cries,
Counting the minutes as they pass,
Till the slow morning rise.

Shall I be still tormented more?
Mine eye consumed with grief?
How long, my God, how long before
Thine hand afford relief?

He hears when dust and ashes speak,
He pities all our groans;
He saves us for his mercy's sake,
And heals our broken bones.

The virtue of his sovereign word
Restores our fainting breath;
For silent graves praise not the Lord,
Nor is he known in death.

1. Psalm 34. Part 1 (Lord, I will bless thee all my days)
2. Psalm 121 (To heav'n I lift my waiting eyes)
3. Psalm 16. Part 1 (Preserve me, Lord, in time of need)
4. Psalm 11 (My refuge is the God of love)
5. Psalm 42. Part 1 (With earnest longings of the mind)

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