1.

O Spare me, Lord, nor o'er my head
The fulness of thy vengeance shed;
With pitying eye my weakness view,
Heal my vex'd Soul, my strength renew,
And O, if yet my sins demand
The wise corrections of thy hand,
Yet give my pains their bounds to know,
And fix a period to my woe.
Return, great God, return, and save
Thy servant from the greedy grave.

2.

Shall Death's long-silent tongue, O say,
The records of thy pow'r display,
Or pale Corruption's startled ear
Thy praise within its prison hear?
By languor, grief, and care, oppress'd,
With groans perpetual heaves my breast,
And tears, in large profusion shed,
Incesiant lave my sleepless bed.
Return, great God, return, and save
Thy servant from the greedy grave.

3.

While clouds of grief around me roll,
And hostile storms invade my soul,
My life, though yet in mid career,
Beholds the winter of its year
Relentless from my cheek each trace
Of youth and blooming health erase,
And spread before my wasting sight
The shades of all-obscuring night.
Return, great God, return, and save
Thy servant from the greedy grave.

4.

Hence, ye profane: My Saviour hears;
While yet I speak, he wipes my tears,
Accepts my pray'r, and bids each foe
With shame their vain attempts forego,
His vengeance whelms their souls in dread,
And bursts in tempests o'er their head,
While, struck with horror from on high,
In wild amaze they backward fly.
My Saviour hears; and deigns to save
His servant from the greedy grave.