Forward I now in duties go,

But, O my Saviour is not there!

Heavy He makes me drive, and slow,

Without the chariot-wheels of prayer.

I look to former times, and strain

The footsteps of my God to trace;

Backward I go (but still in vain)

To find the tokens of His grace.

Surrounded by His power I stand,

His work on other souls I see,

He deals His gifts on either hand,

But still He hides Himself from me.

Groaning I languish at His stay,

But He regards my every groan;

Dark and disconsolate my way,

But still my way to Him is known.

When fully He my faith hath tried,

Like gold I in the fire shall shine,

Come forth when seven times purified,

And strongly bear the stamp Divine.