1 How prone the mind to search for ill,
To fancy mighty woes!
Shortly the cup of life will fill,
And rob it of repose.
2 [How sharp and numerous are the pangs
Imagination gives!
So sharp, that life itself oft hangs
In doubt, nor dies nor lives.]
3 [Could we our woes with truth divide,
The sterling and ideal,
What crowds would stand on fancy’s side!
How few upon the real!]
4 Creatures of fear, we drag along,
And fear where no fear is;
Our griefs we labour to prolong!
Our joys in haste dismiss.
5 Spirit of power, thy strength impart;
This fearful spirit chase
Far off, and make my feeble heart
Thy constant dwelling-place.
6 O if to me thy strength be given,
If thou be on my side,
Then hell as soon shall conquer heaven
As I can be destroyed.
Source: A Selection of Hymns for Public Worship. In four parts (10th ed.) (Gadsby's Hymns) #291