1 The Lord will happiness divine
On contrite hearts bestow;
Then tell me, gracious God, is mine
A contrite heart, or no?

2 I hear, but seem to hear in vain;
Insensible as steel;
If aught is felt, ’tis only pain,
To find I cannot feel.

3 I sometimes think myself inclined
To love thee, if I could;
But often find another mind,
Averse to all that’s good.

4 My best desires are faint and few;
I fain would strive for more;
But when I cry, “My strength renew,”
Seem weaker than before.

5 Thy saints are comforted, I know,
And love thy house of prayer;
I sometimes go where others go,
But find no comfort there.

6 O make this heart rejoice or ache,
Decide this doubt for me;
And if it be not broken, break,
And heal it if it be.