Lov'd of Ail on sorrow mourning,
Bow'd in sadness, bath'd in tears,
Lift thy head: for lo! the morning,
Which shall end thy grief, appears,
Christ thy Hope, will soon appear,
He thy drooping heart will chear.

Dost thou weep, thy foes oppressing
Are thine enemies too strong?
Hast thou doubts and fears distressing,
That thy Saviour waits so long?
Soon by Him from all set free,
Thou shalt sing of victory.

Dost thou now in sorrow languish,
That the hearts of men are cold?
Is thy heart wrung deep with anguish,
That thus 'tis ev'n in the fold?
Lov'd of Ail, thy grief shall cease;
Quick thy Saviour brings release.

Hast thou long a watch been keeping,
Waiting for the promis'd day,
When full joy shall end thy weeping,
Chasing all thy fears away?
Then lift up thy head on high;
Thy redemption draweth nigh.

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