Why has my God, my soul forsook, nor will a smile afford Thus David once in anguish spoke and thus our dying Lord Oh, it’s your chief delight to dwell among your praising saints And yet your hear us groan as well and pity our complaints
Our fathers trusted in your name and great deliverance found But he’s a worm despised of men who trot him to the ground Men shake their heads and pass him by and laugh his soul to scorn “In vain he trusts in God,” they cry, neglected and forlorn
But you are he who formed his flesh by your own mighty word And since he hung upon the breast his hope was in the Lord Why would his father hide his face when foes stand threatening ’round In his dark hour of deep distress and not a helper found
Why, oh why, my God? Why, oh why, my God?
For the joy set before him he endured And is seated at the right hand of the throne Well done, good and faithful, well done Well done, good and faithful one
Behold your dear one left alone with the cruel and the proud As mighty bulls so fierce and strong, as lions roaring loud For mirth and hell and sorrows meet to multiply the pain They nail his hands, they pierce his feet and mock him yet again
Yet if your sovereign hand let loose a rage in earth and hell Why would my Heavenly father bruise the son he loved so well? He prayed in dark Gethsemane, “Withhold this bitter cup” But he resigned his will to thee and drank the sorrows up
Our savior cried with David’s grief, “In groans I waste my breath Thy hand has brought me down beneath the bitter dust of death” And then he gave his spirit up to trust it in your hand His dying flesh reposed in hope, to rise at your command
Why, oh why, my God? Why, oh why, my God?
For the joy set before him he endured And is seated at the right hand of the throne Well done, good and faithful, well done Well done, good and faithful, well done Well done good and faithful one