8s & 6s. Job vii. 17, 18.

1 BY secret influence from above,
Me thou dost every moment prove,
And labour to convert;
Ready to save I feel thee nigh,
And still I hear thy Spirit cry,
"My son, give me thy heart."

2 Why do I not the call obey,
Cast my besetting sin away,
With every useless load?
Why cannot I this moment give
The heart thou waitest to receive,
And love my loving God?

3 My loving God, the hindrance show,
Which nature dreads, alas! to know,
And lingers to remove;
Stronger than sin, thy grace exert,
And seize, and change, and fill my heart
With all the powers of love.

4 Then shall I answer thy design,
No longer, Lord, my own, but thine;
Till all thy will be done,
Humbly I pass my trial here,
And ripe in holiness appear
With boldness at thy throne.