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I weep, but do not yield,
I mourn, yet still rebel;
My inmost soul seems steeled,
Cold and immovable.
The wound is sharp and deep;
My spirit bleeds within;
And yet I lie asleep,
And still I sin, I sin.
My bruised soul complains
Of stripes without, within;
I feel these piercing pains —
Yet still I sin, I sin.
O'er me the low cloud hung
Its weight of shade and fear;
Unmoved I passed along,
And still my sin is here.
Yon massive mountain-peak
The lightning rends at will;
The rock can melt or break —
I am unbroken still.
My sky was once noon-bright,
My day was calm the while,
I loved the pleasant light,
The sunshine's happy smile.
I said, my God, oh, sure,
This love will kindle mine;
Let but this calm endure,
Then all my heart is thine.
Alas, I knew it not! —
The summer flung its gold.
Of sunshine o'er my lot,
And yet my heart was cold.
Trust me with prosperous days,
I said, O spare the rod;
Thee and thy love I'll praise,
My gracious, patient God.
Must I be smitten, Lord?
Are gentler measures vain?
Must I be smitten, Lord?
Can nothing save but pain?
Thou trustedst me a while;
Alas! I was deceived;
I revelled in the smile,
Yet to the dust I cleaved.
Then the fierce tempest broke,
I knew from whom it came,
I read in that sharp stroke
A father's hand and name.
And yet I did Thee wrong;
Dark thoughts of Thee came in, —
A froward, selfish throng —
And I allowed the sin!
I did Thee wrong, my God,
I wronged thy truth and love,
I fretted at the rod,
Against thy power I strove.
I said, my God, at length,
This stony heart remove,
Deny all other strength,
But give me strength to love.
Come nearer, nearer still,
Let not thy light depart;
Bend, break this stubborn will,
Dissolve this iron heart.
Less wayward let me be,
More pliable and mild;
In glad simplicity
More like a trustful child.
Less, less, of self each day,
And more, my God, of thee;
O keep me in the way,
However rough it be.
Less of the flesh each day,
Less of the world and sin;
More of thy Son I pray,
More of Thyself within.
Riper and riper now,
Each hour let me become,
Less fit for scenes below,
More fit for such a home.
More moulded to Thy will,
Lord, let Thy servant be,
Higher and higher still,
Liker and liker thee.
Leave nought that is unmeet;
Of all that is mine own
Strip me; and so complete
My training for the throne.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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6 6 6 6
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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MUSIC
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Name:
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IBSTONE
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Meter:
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6 6 6 6
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Writer(s):
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Dates:
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1875
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LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Song #
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Key
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| # 317 | D | | # 462 | D | | # 404 | Eb | | # 265 | G |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
