When Hannah, Pressed with Grief

Hannah, or the throne of grace by John Newton


 * When Hannah, pressed with grief,
 * Poured forth her soul in prayer;
 * She quickly found relief,
 * And left her burden there:
 * Like her, in every trying case,
 * Let us approach the throne of grace.


 * When she began to pray,
 * Her heart was pained and sad;
 * But ere she went away,
 * Was comforted and glad:
 * In trouble, what a resting place,
 * Have they who know the throne of grace!


 * Though men and devils rage,
 * And threaten to devour;
 * The saints, from age to age,
 * Are safe from all their pow’r:
 * Fresh strength they gain to run their race,
 * By waiting at the throne of grace.


 * Eli her case mistook,
 * How was her spirit moved
 * By his unkind rebuke?
 * But God her cause approved.
 * We need not fear a creature’s face,
 * While welcome at the throne of grace.


 * She was not filled with wine,
 * As Eli rashly thought;
 * But with a faith divine,
 * And found the help she sought:
 * Though men despise and call us base,
 * Still let us ply the throne of grace.


 * Men have not pow’r or skill,
 * With troubled souls to bear;
 * Though they express good-will,
 * Poor comforters they are:
 * But swelling sorrows sink apace,
 * When we approach the throne of grace.


 * Numbers before have tried,
 * And found the promise true;
 * Nor one been yet denied,
 * Then why should I or you?
 * Let us by faith their footsteps trace,
 * And hasten to the throne of grace.


 * As fogs obscure the light,
 * And taint the morning air;
 * But soon are put to flight,
 * If the bright sun appear;
 * Thus Jesus will our troubles chase,
 * By shining from the throne of grace.