By A Collection of Hymns

      8s. Jeremiah xv. 18.
      1 AH! why am I left to complain
      In gloomy despair of relief?
      No end of oppression and pain,
      No respite, or ease of my grief!
      To soothe my incurable wound
      No friendly physician I see;
      No balm is in Gilead found,
      No promise of mercy for me.

      2 In vain for redemption I look;
      My hope in a Saviour unknown,
      It passes away like a brook
      Dried up in a moment and gone!
      But God cannot finally fail;
      The fountain of life from above
      Shall rise in the depth of the vale,
      Shall flow with a current of love.