Rejoice the Soul of Thy Servant

I

When my pray’rs are a burden and task.
No wonder I little receive;
Lord, make me willing to ask,
Since thou art so ready to give:
Although I am bought with thy blood,
And all thy salvation is mine,
At a distance from thee, my chief good.
I wander and languish and pine.

II

Of thy goodness of old, when I read,
To those who were sinners like me,
Why may I not wrestle and plead,
With them a partaker to be?
Thine arm is not shorten’d since then,
And those who believe in thy name
Ever find thou art Yea and Amen,
Through all generations the same.

III

While my spirit within me is press’d
With sorrow, temptation, and fear,
Like John I would flee to thy breast,
And pour my complaints in thine ear:
How happy and favour’d was he
Who could on thy bosom repose!
Might this favour be granted to me,
I’d smile at the rage of my foes.

IV

I have heard of thy wonderful name,
How great and exalted thou art;
But ah! I confess to my shame,
It faintly impresses my heart:
The beams of thy glory display,
As Peter once saw thee appear;
That, transported like him, I might say,
“It is good for my soul to be here.”

V

What a sorrow and weight didst thou feel,
When nail’d, for my sake, to the tree!
My heart sure is harder than steel,
To feel no more sorrow for thee:
Oh! let me with Thomas descry
The wounds in thy hands and thy side,
And have feelings like his when I cry,
“My God and my Saviour has died!”

VI

But if thou hast appointed me still
To wrestle and suiter and fight;
make me resign’d to thy will,
For all thy appointments are right:
This mercy, at least I entreat,
That, knowing how vile I have been,
I, with Mary, may wait at thy feet,
And weep o’er the pardon of sin.