Ye broken hearts all, who cry out, "Unclean,"

Ye broken hearts all, who cry out, "Unclean,"
And taste of the gall of in-dwelling sin;
Lamenting it truly, and loathing it too,
And seeking help duly, as sinners must do;

The Lord whom ye seek is nigh to your call,
Attends when you speak, nor lets a word fall;
Your sorrow and sighing are felt in his breast;
He pities your crying, and will give you rest.

If often he hides his face from his friends,
And silent abides for merciful ends,
At length he uncovers himself from his cloud,
And sweetly discovers his face and his blood.

All penitent cries his Spirit imparts,
And fetches out sighs from sin-feeling hearts;
He puts you in mourning, the dress that you want,
A meek suit adorning both sinner and saint.

A time he has set to heal up your woes,
A season most fit his love to disclose;
And till he is ready to show his good-will,
Be patient and steady, and wait on him still.