1 Come, Lord, and fight the battle,
My hands are tired and faint;
I have no strength to struggle,
“Consider my complaint,”
One of Thy weakest soldiers
Is weary in the field;—
Yet Thine is all the vict’ry,
Thy love is all my shield.
2 ‘Tis not that I am weary
Of service done for Thee;—
‘Tis not that I would alter
Thy loving will for me,—
Sweet is the vineyard labour,
Through all the toil and heat;
And sweet the lonely night-watch,
Safe resting at Thy feet.
3 Yet, Lord, there is a warfare
No eye but Thine may see;
Oh! hear my cry for succour,
Come Thou, and fight for me.
The self I cannot conquer,
The will that still is mine,
Oh! take them both, Lord Jesus,
And make them one with Tine.
4 Take them! I cannot yield them—
I am not what I seemed;
I have no power, Lord Jesus,
To do what Once I dreamed;
The yearning of the earth-life
Is stronger than my strength;
When may the spell be broken,
And freedom come at length?
5 Like dew on drooping blossoms,
Like breath from holy place,
Laden with health and healing,
Come Thy deep words of grace:
“Thy strength is all in leaning
On One who fights for thee,
Thine is the helpless clinging,
And Mine the victory.”
Source: Hymns of Consecration and Faith #486