O that I knew the secret place
Where I might find my God!
I’d spread my wants before His face,
And pour my woes abroad.
I’d tell Him how my sins arise;
What sorrows I sustain;
How grace decays, and comfort dies,
And leaves my heart in pain.
He knows what arguments I’d take
To wrestle with my God;
I’d plead for His own mercy’s sake
And for my Savior’s blood.
Arise, my soul, from deep distress,
And banish every fear;
He calls Thee to His throne of grace,
To spread Thy sorrows there.