O that I knew the secret place

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 recedes 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 Saviour's blood.

But stay, my soul, to hope give place;
He'll banish every fear;
He calls thee to his throne of grace,
To spread thy sorrows there.