Lord I Despair Myself To Heal
Lord, I despair myself to heal;
I see my sin, but can not feel;
I can not, till thy Spirit blow,
And bid th’ obedient waters flow.
‘Tis thine a heart of flesh to give;
Thy gifts I only can receive;
Here, then, to thee I all resign;
To draw, redeem, and seal–are thine.
With simple faith, on thee I call–
My light, my life, my Lord, my all:
I wait the moving of the pool;
I wait the word that speaks me whole.
Speak, gracious Lord, my sickness cure–
Make my infected nature pure:
Peace, righteousness, and joy impart,
And pour thyself into my heart!