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 aught 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’s 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.