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 therefore go where others go,
But find no comfort there.
Oh make this heart rejoice or ache;
Decide this doubt for me;
And if it be not broken, break — And heal it, if it be.(Isaiah, lvii.15)
