God of my life, to Thee I call, Afflicted at Thy feet I fall; Oh, while the swelling floods prevail, Leave not my trembling heart to fail. Friend of the friendless and the faint, Where shall I lodge my deep complaint, Where but with Thee whose open door Invites the helpless and the poor. Did ever mourner plead with Thee, And Thou refuse the humble plea? Does not the word still fixed remain, That none shall seek Thy face in vain.