O this soul, how dark and blind;
O this fool­ish, earth­ly mind;
Ever fro­ward self­ish will,
Which re­fus­es to be still!

O these ev­er roam­ing eyes,
Upward that re­fuse to rise;
These still way­ward feet of mine,
Found in eve­ry path but Thine!

O these puls­es felt with­in,
Beating for the world and sin;
Sending round the fe­vered blood,
In a fierce and car­nal flood!

O this stub­born pray­er­less knee,
Hands so sol­emn clasped to Thee,
Longings of the soul that go,
Like the wild wind to and fro.

To and fro with­out an aim,
Turning id­ly whence they came,
Bringing in no joy, no bliss—
Adding to my wea­ri­ness!

Giver of the heav’n­ly peace,
Bid, O bid, these tu­mults cease;
Minister Thy ho­ly balm,
Fill me with Thy Spir­it’s calm.

Thou the life, the truth, the way,
Leave me not in sin to stay;
Bearer of the sin­ner’s guilt,
Lead me, lead me, as Thou wilt.