The contrite heart.
The LORD will happiness divine
On contrite hearts bestow:
Then tell me, gracious GOD, is mine
A contrite heart, or no?
I hear, but seem to hear in vain,
Insensible as steel;
If ought is felt, 'tis only pain,
To find I cannot feel.
I sometimes think myself inclined
To love thee, if I could;
But often feel another mind,
Averse to all that's good.
My best desires are faint and few,
I fain would strive for more;
But when I cry, "My strength renew,"
Seem weaker than before.
Thy saints are comforted I know,
And love thy house of prayer;
I therefore go where others go,
But find no comfort there.
O make this heart rejoice, or ache;
Decide this doubt for me;
And if it be not broken, break,
And heal it, if it be.