In Doubt

The children to the birth are come;
But, O! they have not might
To burst the barriers of the womb,
And struggle into light.

My feeble soul gives o'er the strife,
Just as it sees the skies;
Fails in the very gate of life,
Sinks back again, and dies.

I saw the port of Jesu's breast;
But, while I enter'd in,
A whirlwind swept me from my rest,
And plunged me into sin.

What shall I do, or whither turn?
Despairing of relief,
I only can my ruin mourn
With unavailing grief.

Ah, woe is me! to evil sold,
And fallen back from grace!
I never, never shall behold
The dear Redeemer's face.

Better that I had never felt
My Saviour's blood applied;
Less aggravated were my guilt,
Had I in Egypt died.

Better that I had never known
The way of righteousness,
Than to break off the course begun,
And leave the' unfinish'd race.

Ah! wherefore did I ever take,
If I must quit the field;
Must shamefully at last turn back,
And cast away my shield?

But shall I throw on God the blame?
Or daringly complain
Because I most unfaithful am,
And make His mercies vain?

No, Lord, Thy truth and grace I clear;
For years Thy Spirit strove,
Faithful to me Thy mercies were,
And infinite Thy love.

Far be it from my wretched heart
To charge my death on Thee;
To save me now Thou ready art,
If saved I now would be.

Whether or no my heart of stone
Will yield to be renew'd,
Sufficient is Thy grace I own,
I justify my God.

This record do I leave behind,
Whether I stand or fall:
Sinners, ye all His grace may find,
His grace is free for all.