Graces: Perishing for hunger, I

Perishing for hunger, I,
Ever at the point to die,
Languishing for want of God,
Can I taste my outward food?

Yet for Thy commandment sake,
Lord, my outward food I take,
Strength for farther sufferings gain,
Lengthen out a life of pain.

Lo! my necessary meat
Still with bitter herbs I eat,
Till I out of Egypt pass,
Till I know Thy pardoning grace.

Spare, my friends, your vain expense,
Take your tasteless dainties hence,
Give your idle reasonings o'er,
Grieve me with your love no more.

Well I know the promise sure,
"All things to the pure are pure;"
But to me of lips unclean
Good is ill, and pleasure sin.

Leave me then, without relief,
Obstinately fix'd in grief,
Steadfastly resolved to know
No enjoyment here below.

Pleasure will I never taste
Till the pain of sin is past,
Never take delight in food
Till I feed upon my God.