Verse 1
And is it come to this at last
With one that did run well,
Arrested is my rapid haste,
And quench’d my flaming zeal?
Nothing at last for me remains
But to lament my case,
And sadly count my mournful gains,
And muse on what I was.

Verse 2
I was (himself can tell) sincere
To seek the God unknown,
When, only influenc’d by fear,
I blindly labour’d on;
To stablish my own righteousness
In ignorance I strove,
Nor knew the way of gospel-peace,
The freeness of his love.

Verse 3
I hid me in the secret shade
With solitary care,
And oft implor’d my Maker’s aid,
And found his comforts there:
His transient comforts but increas’d
My wounded spirit’s smart,
The mountain still my soul oppress’d,
The vail was on my heart.

Verse 4
I fasted, read, and wept, and cried
For permanent relief,
Nor yet in Jesus blood espied
The balm of all my grief.
Weary and faint, beneath my load,
I at his altar lay,
But fear’d t’ approach an angry God,
Yet dared not disobey.

Verse 5
I wanted still I knew not what,
Or how the grace t’ obtain:
The children to the birth were brought,
But all my pangs were vain:
Myself I coud not shun, nor bear,
I coud not fight nor fly,
And sunk o’rewhelm’d with just despair,
And wish’d, and fear’d to die.