342 Hymn 27
John Newton
7,6,7,6,7,7,7,6
Bitter and sweet.
Kindle, Savior, in my heart A flame of love divine; Hear, hear, for mine I trust thou art, And sure I would be thine: If my soul has felt thy grace, If to me thy name is known; Why should trifles fill the place, Due to thyself alone. | ’Tis a strange mysterious life I live from day to day; Light and darkness, peace and strife, Bear an alternate sway; When I think the battle won I have to fight it o’er again; When I say I’m overthrown, Relief I soon obtain. | Often at the mercy–seat While calling on thy name; Swarms of evil thoughts I meet, Which fill my soul with shame. Agitated in my mind, Like a feather in the air; Can I thus a blessing find? My soul, can this be prayer? | But When CHRIST, my LORD and Friend, Is pleased to show his pow’r; All at once my troubles end, And I’ve a golden hour: 343 Then I see his smiling face, Feel the pledge of joys to come; Often, LORD, repeat this grace Till thou shalt call me home. | |
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