899    112th     John Berridge
“Wait ye upon me, saith the Lord.” Zeph. 3. 8

1 O thou with battering tempest tossed,
  Perplexed and shattered here and there,
  Bewildered on a legal coast,
  And finding no deliverance near,
  On Jesus calling with sad thought,
  But Jesus seems to mind thee not!

2 Soon as thy heart can moaning cry,
  “What must a wretched sinner do?”
  To Jesus lift thy weary eye,
  For whither else can sinners go?
  And Jesus will not fail thy hope;
  But on him wait till he rise up.

3 He will rise up the prey to take;
  His mighty arm he will make bare;
  He will, for his own mercy’s sake,
  Bereave thee of thy guilty fear,
  And tame the beasts within thy breast;
  But on him wait, till he give rest.