1 Of sinful Adam's num'rous race,
I find myself most vile;
To me can God extend his grace
Or ever grant a smile?
2 Can I be call'd a child of God,
Can I his promise claim;
While sinking in the loathsome flood,
Of inbred sin and shame?
3 Once I could shout his praises high,
And call him Lord and king;
But now how cold and dead I lie,
Nor dare I think to sing.
4 Once I could join his praying flock,
And thought the union sweet:
Conscience forbids me now to mock,
By claiming there a seat.
5 Was I deceiv'd? Blest spirit tell,
Nor leave me to despair:
Sometimes a heav'n sometimes a hell,
Within this heart appear.
6 Sometimes I feel a beam divine,
The God I own and love;
It seams direct from heav'n to shine,
And call me strait above.
7 I stretch my wings, and fain wold fly;
But Oh, my want of pow'r!
The vision ends, I sin and sigh,
And count the awful score.
8 Great God resolve this painful strife,
Grant faith and love may reign;
Then I'll devote an endless life
To sing in highest strain.
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | Of sinful Adam's num'rous race |
Title: | The doubting christian |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1799 |
Topic: | Christiian: Doubting |
Notes: | Now Public Domain. |