749    148th     John Berridge
“When I cry ... he shutteth out my prayer.” Lam. 3. 8

1 I hear a righteous man,
  A prophet good and great,
  In deep distress complain,
  And thus his grief relate:
  “I call on God, and cry and shout,
  But all my prayer he shutteth out.”

2 He cries, and cries again,
  And yet no answers come;
  He shouts aloud through pain,
  And still the Lord is dumb;
  Like some abandoned wretch he moans,
  And Jesus seems to mock his groans.

3 Let every drooping saint
  Keep waiting evermore;
  And though exceeding faint,
  Knock on at mercy’s door;
  Still cry and shout till night is past,
  For daylight will spring up at last.

4 If Christ do not appear,
  When his disciples cry,
  He marketh every tear,
  And counteth every sigh;
  In all their sorrows bears a part,
  Beholds their grief, and feels their smart.

5 He lends an unseen hand,
  And gives a secret prop,
  Which keeps them waiting stand,
  Till he complete their hope!
  So let me wait upon this Friend,
  And trust him till my troubles end.