How shall I pour out my complaint,

How shall I pour out my complaint,
Or tell the Lord my sore distress?
Yet he espies my every want,
My weakness, sin, and foolishness.

Stupid, secure, and hard, and blind,
Withered and dead, and rooted up;
To endless death I seem consigned;
So destitute of cheering hope.

Uneasy when I feel my load;
Uneasy when I feel it not;
Dissatisfied for want of God,
Though oft of him I've not a thought.

I cannot frame a good desire,
If all the world to me was given;
I cannot to a wish aspire,
If one good wish would purchase heaven.

Sometimes I follow after God;
Sometimes I carelessly retreat;
For mercy now I cry aloud,
And now in stubborn silence sit.

O Prince of life, with power descend;
Thy blood apply, my conscience clear;
Then shall this legal conflict end,
And perfect love cast out sad fear.