Daniel Read - Eastham - текст песни (слова)

'Tis with a mournful pleasure now
 I think on ancient days;
 Then to thy house did numbers go,
 And all our work was praise.
 
 But why, my soul, sunk down so far
 Beneath this heavy load?
 Why do my thoughts indulge despair,
 And sin against my God?
 
 Hope in the Lord, whose mighty hand
 Can all thy woes remove,
 For I shall yet before him stand,
 And sing restoring love.