Lord, if to me Thy grace hath given

A spark of life, a taste of heaven,

The Gospel Pearl, the woman’s Seed,

The Bruiser of the serpent’s head;

Why sleeps my principle Divine?

Why hastens not my spark to shine?

The Saviour in my heart to move,

And all my soul to flame with love?

Buried, o’erwhelm’d, and lost in sin,

And seemingly extinct within,

The Immortal Seed unactive lies,

The heavenly Adam sinks and dies:

Dies, and revives the dying flame.

Cast down, but not destroy’d I am;

’Midst thousand lusts I still respire,

And tremble, unconsumed in fire.

Suffer’d awhile to want my God,

To groan beneath my nature’s load,

That all may own, that all may see

The ungodly justified in me.