And chang'd my mournful state,
My rapture seem'd a pleasing dream,
The grace appear'd so great.
2 The world beheld the glorious change,
And did thy hand confess;
My tongue broke out in unknown strains,
And sung surprising grace:
3 "Great is the work," my neighbours cry'd,
And own'd the power divine;
"Great is the work," my heart reply'd,
"And be the glory thine."
4 The Lord can clear the darkest skies,
Can give us day for night,
Make drops of sacred sorrow rise
To rivers of delight.
5 Let those that sow in sadness wait
Till the fair harvest come,
They shall confess their sheaves are great,
And shout the blessings home.
6 Tho' seed lie bury'd long in dust,
It shan't deceive their hope;
The precious grain can ne'er be lost,
For grace insures the crop.
This last line was used by Spurgeon in an early sermon:
Can be sung to any C M tune
