The Good That I Would I Do Not

I would, but cannot sing, Guilt has untuned my voice; The serpent sin's envenomed sting Has poisoned all my joys. I know the Lord is nigh, And would, but cannot, pray; For Satan meets me when I try, And frights my soul away. I would but can't repent Though I endeavor oft; This stony heart can ne'er relent Till Jesus make it soft. I would but cannot love, Though wooed by love divine; No arguments have pow'r to move A soul so base as mine. I would, but cannot rest In God's most holy will; I know what he appoints is best, Yet murmur at it still! Oh could I but believe! Then all would easy be; I would, but cannot, Lord relieve, My help must come from thee! But if indeed I would, Though I can nothing do, Yet the desire is something good, For which my praise is due. By nature prone to ill, Till thine appointed hour I was as destitute of will, As now I am of pow'r. Wilt thou not crown, at length, The work thou hast begun? And with a will, afford me strength In all thy ways to run.