What a mournful life is mine

Dwelling in Mesech by John Newton


 * What a mournful life is mine,
 * Fill with crosses, pains and cares!
 * Every work defiled with sin,
 * Every step beset with snares!


 * If alone I pensive fit,
 * I myself can hardly bear;
 * If I pass along the street,
 * Sin and riot triumph there.


 * Jesus! how my heart is pained,
 * How it mourns for souls deceived!
 * When I hear thy name profaned,
 * When I see thy Spirit grieved!


 * When thy children's griefs I view,
 * Their distress becomes my own;
 * All I hear, or see, or do,
 * Makes me tremble, weep and groan.


 * Mourning thus I long had been,
 * When I heard my Savior's voice;
 * Thou hast cause to mourn for sin,
 * But in me thou may'st rejoice."


 * This kind word dispelled my grief,
 * Put to silence my complaints;
 * Though of sinners I am chief,
 * He his ranked me with his saints.


 * Though constrained to dwell a while
 * Where the wicked strive and brawl;
 * Let them frown; so he but smile,
 * Heav'n will make amends for all.


 * There, believers, we shall rest,
 * Free from sorrow, sin and fears;
 * Nothing there our peace molests,
 * Through eternal rounds of years.


 * Let us then the fight endure,
 * See our Captain looking down;
 * He will make the conquest sure,
 * And bestow the promised crown.