XIII. Complaining

1 I would, but cannot sing,
I would, but cannot pray;
For satan meets me when I try,
And frights my soul away.

2 I would, but can't repent,
Tho' I endeavour oft;
This stony heart can ne'er relent
Till Jesus makes it soft.

3 I would, but cannot love,
Tho' woo'd by love divine;
No arguments have pow'r to move
A soul so base as mine.

4 I would, but cannot rest
In God's most holy will;
I know what he appoints is best,
Yet murmur at it still.

5 O could I but believe!
Then all would easy be;
I would but cannot – Lord, relieve;
My help must come from thee!

6 But if indeed I would,
Though I can nothing do;
Yet the desire is something good,
For which my praise is due.

7 By nature prone to ill,
Till thine appointed hour,
I was as destitute of will,
As now I am of power.

8 Wilt thou not crown at length
The work thou hast begun?
And with a will, afford me strength
In all thy ways to run?

Text Information
First Line: I would, but cannot sing
Title: Complaining
Language: English
Publication Date: 1790
Tune Information
(No tune information)



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