I would, but cannot sing,

Guilt has untuned my voice;

The serpent sin’s envenomed sting

Has poisoned all my joys.

I know the Lord is nigh,

And would, but cannot, pray;

For Satan meets me when I try,

And frights my soul away.

I would but can’t repent

Though I endeavor oft;

This stony heart can ne’er relent

Till JESUS make it soft.

I would but cannot love,

Though wooed by love divine;

No arguments have pow’r to move

A soul so base as mine.

I would, but cannot rest

In GOD’S most holy will;

I know what he appoints is best,

Yet murmur at it still!

Oh could I but believe!

Then all would easy be;

I would, but cannot, LORD relieve,

My help must come from thee!

But if indeed I would,

Though I can nothing do,

Yet the desire is something good,

For which my praise is due.

By nature prone to ill,

Till thine appointed hour

I was as destitute of will,

As now I am of pow’r.

Wilt thou not crown, at length,

The work thou hast begun?

And with a will, afford me strength

In all thy ways to run.