299    C.M.     J. Berridge
“Thou didst hide thy face, I was troubled.” Ps. 30. 7

1 If but a single moment’s space,
  My Lord himself withdraws,
  Dark clouds and storms come on apace,
  And debts, and broken laws.

2 My heart reveals its dross and dung,
  And loathsome is my breath;
  My harp is on the willows hung,
  And Esau vows my death.

3 My eyes refuse to lend a tear;
  My throat is hoarse and dry;
  I lisp and falter in my prayer,
  And sick and faint am I.

4 If Jesus loves the gospel-poor,
  That broken-hearted be,
  A mourner waiteth at thy door,
  Who wants a sight of thee.

5 Look from the windows of thy grace,
  And cheer a drooping heart;
  A single smile from thy sweet face
  Will bid my griefs depart.

6 Thou art the life of all my joys;
  Thy presence makes my heaven;
  Whatever else my Lord denies,
  Thy presence, Lord, be given.