Sin the Cause of Sorrow

The pains that wait our fleeting breath.
Too oft my mournful thoughts employ;
Amid the gloomy shades of death,
The hope of heav'n is life, is joy.

But ah! how soon the blissful ray
With guilt o'ershaded, disappears:
'Tis sin alone, that clouds my day,
'Tis sin alone, deserves my tears.

Yes, I have cause indeed to mourn,
When God conceals his radiant face;
And pray and long till he return,
With smiles of sweet forgiving grace.

Then weep my eyes, complain my heart,
But mourn not, hopeless of relief;
For sov'reign mercy will impart
Its healing beams, to ease my grief.

The Saviour pleads his dying blood,
Awake my hope, away my fears;
Through him I'll seek my absent God,
Till his returning smile appears.