Strange and mysterious is my life,

What opposites I feel within!

A stable peace, a constant strife,

The rule of grace, the pow’r of sin:

Too often I am captive led,

Yet daily triumph in my Head.

I prize the privilege of prayer,

But o! what backwardness to pray!

Though on the LORD I cast my care,

I feel its burden every day:

I seek his will in all I do,

Yet find my own is working too.

I call the promises my own,

And prize them more than mines of gold;

Yet though their sweetness I have known,

They leave me unimpressed and cold

One hour upon the truth I feed,

The next I know not what I read.

I love the holy day of rest,

When Jesus meets his gathered saints;

Sweet day, of all the week the best!

For its return my spirit pants:

Yet often, through my unbelief,

It proves a day of guilt and grief.

While on my Savior I rely,

I know my foes shall loose their aim;

And therefore dare their pow’r defy,

Assured of conquest through his name:

But soon my confidence is slain,

And all my fears return again.

Thus different pow’rs within me strive,

And grace, and sin, by turns prevail;

I grieve, rejoice, decline, revive,

And vict’ry hangs in doubtful scale:

But JESUS has his promise passed,

That grace shall overcome at last.