Conflict.  Rom. 7. 15-24;  Gal. 5. 17

J. Newton                 S.M.

I know the Lord is nigh,
And would but cannot pray,
For Satan meets me when I try,
And frights my soul away.

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

I would, but cannot love,
Though wooed by love divine;
No arguments have power to move
A soul so base as mine.

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

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

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

[Wilt thou not crown at length
The work thou hast begun?
And with the will afford me strength
In all thy ways to run?]