The Lord will happiness divine
On contrite hearts bestow;
Then tell me gracious God is mine,
A contrite heart, or no?
I hear, but seem to hear in vain,
Insensible as steel;
If aught is felt, ’tis only pain
To find I cannot feel.
I sometimes think myself inclined
To love Thee, if I could;
But often feel another mind
Averse to all that’s good.
My best desires are faint and few,
I fain would strive for more;
But, when I cry, “My strength renew,”
Seem weaker than before.
Thy saints are comforted, I know,
And love Thy house of prayer;
I sometimes go where others go,
But find no comfort there.