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| |
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When I of myself,
Attempt a review,
I find I am black,
And yet comely too;
What singular wonders
Of me may be told,
Sometimes I am burning,
Then perished with cold.
My wealth is increased,
When feeling most poor,
My loss is my gain,
My poverty store;
I’m wretched and filthy,
Yet free from each stain,
Am healthful and happy,
Afflicted with pain.
I toil and I strive,
Am steadfast, yet fall
And while I’m at work,
‘Tis grace does it all.
I creep along slowly,
Yet swiftly I fly,
Am daily transgressing,
And yet ‘tis not I.
The things I perform,
My heart does detest,
And those I most love,
I do them the least;
The more I’m possessing,
I still want the more,
Am restless yet resting,
‘Midst dangers secure.
I’m dead, yet alive,
Am weak and yet strong,
I’m empty and full,
Am right and yet wrong,
Unstable yet fixed,
Diseased and yet sound,
What strange contradictions
In me may be found.
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marker 99
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
|
Hymn/Song Book
|
Year
|
Song #
|
| 1818 | # 532 |
MUSIC
|
Name:
|
HOUGHTON
|
|
Meter:
|
10 10 11 11
|
|
Writer(s):
|
|
|
Dates:
|
1861
|
LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
|
Hymn/Song Book
|
Song #
|
Key
|
| # 11 | G | | # 398 | G | | # 504 | G | | # 7 | G | | # 21 | G | | # 434 | G | | # 744 | No key |
ALTERNATIVE TUNES
|
Name
|
meter
|
| 10 10 11 11 | | 10 10 11 11 |
echo ' | ';
|
Hymn Writer
