Just waken’d from a slumber,
Who wanders in sin’s wilderness,
Out of the condemned number.
The thunder roars from Sinai’s mount,
Fills him with awful terror;
And he like nought in God’s account,
All drown’d with grief and sorrow.
Oh, woe is me that I was born,
Or after death have being;
Fain would I be some earthly worm,