1 A Helpless creature here I lie,
A mere abject to men;
Tho' day and night for help I cry,
My troubles still remain.
2 No prospect of relief I see,
From these, my heavy chains;
An act of wonder it would be,
To free my of my pains.
3 With pains confin'd unto my bed,
The only place I have;
Perhaps till numb'red with the dead,
And shrouded in the grave.
4 But what impatience do I feel,
When I should be at rest!
To know this, is my Maker's will,
Which serves to make me bless'd.
5 My troubles are increas'd the more,
Of greater weight they are;
When I must feel the tempter's pow'r,
Who would have me despair.
6 Who tells me I need not to pray,
Nor trust unto the Lord,
That I am but a castasway
That cannot be restor'd.
7 Should Christ afflict his people thus:
This is the tempter's cry;
Should he who ever loved us,
With such afflictions try.
8 But O, my Saviour bear me through,
Still keep my faith alive;
Help me to keep the prize in view,
Till I in heav'n arrive.Source: Church Hymn Book: consisting of newly composed hymns with the addition of hymns and psalms, from other authors, carefully adapted for the use of public worship, and many other occasions (1st ed.) #CCXVI