“Draw me, we will run after thee.” Song 1. 4; Lam. 5. 21

J. Berridge                    148th

How backward is my heart
In search of endless life!
How loth with toys to part,
Which only bring me grief!
Small riddance in the race I make,
Yet pant for breath each step I take.

I cannot well abide
The cross’s daily load,
It makes me start aside,
And leave the narrow road;
Like some raw bullock not well broke,
My shoulder frets beneath the yoke.

Erewhile I sit and sigh,
And loathe my folly too;
Then up I get and try
What human might can do;
Lay to my arm, but all in vain;
No arm of mine can break the chain.

Ah! whither must I go,
Since flesh and reason fail?
No help on earth, I know,
Can o’er my heart prevail;
No arm can reach my desperate case
But his whose name is Truth and Grace.

To him I lift my eyes;
Thou Son of David, hear,
And let my feeble cries
Bring thy salvation near;
My froward heart is in thy hand,
And it will move at thy command.


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