Lord, I despair myself to heal:
I see my sin, but cannot feel;

Lord, I despair myself to heal:
I see my sin, but cannot feel;
I cannot, till thy Spirit blow,
And bid the obedient waters flow.

‘Tis thine a heart of flesh to give,
Thy gifts I only can receive;
Here then to thee I all resign;
To draw, redeem, and seal, is thine.

With simple faith on thee I call,
My light, my life, my Lord, my all:
I wait the moving of the pool,
I wait the word that speaks me whole.

Speak, gracious Lord, my sickness cure,
Make my infected nature pure;
Peace, righteousness, and joy impart,
And pour thyself into my heart.

 

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