The heart knows its bitterness, thought ’t may be said,
You are happy and blest all the while;
The depth of your misery, your burden of sin
May in anguish be hid ’neath a smile.
Thy waves and thy billows are over me gone,
With the Psalmist, I mournfully say,
And ask, Why cast down? Why disquieted, opprest?
’Tis why I’ve no heart now to pray?
Has the Spirit been grieved? Has it taken its flight?
To this desolate self am I left?