By A Collection of Hymns

      L.M.
      1 WHEN, gracious Lord, when shall it be,
      That I shall find my all in thee,
      The fulness of thy promise prove,
      The seal of thine eternal love?

      2 A poor blind child I wander here,
      If haply I may feel thee near:
      O dark! dark! dark! I still must say,
      Amid the blaze of gospel day.

      3 Thee, only thee, I fain would find,
      And cast the world and flesh behind;
      Thou, only thou, to me be given,
      Of all thou hast in earth or heaven.

      4 Whom man forsakes thou wilt not leave,
      Ready the outcasts to receive,
      Though all my simpleness I own,
      And all my faults to thee are known.

      5 Ah, wherefore did I ever doubt!
      Thou wilt in no wise cast me out,
      A helpless soul that comes to thee,
      With only sin and misery.

      6 Lord, I am sick, my sickness cure;
      I want, do thou enrich the poor;
      Under thy mighty hand I stoop,
      O lift the abject sinner up!

      7 Lord, I am blind, be thou my sight;
      Lord, I am weak be thou my might;
      A helper of the helpless be,
      And let me find my all in thee!