a hymn by hart.

today in church, steven reminded us that...

God is not out to build our Kingdom, He's for His Kingdom.

it's funny how i battle that in my mind. as soon as i remember it, it's like a sigh of relief... Lord, i can let go.

i found this in my book, Gadsby's Hymns. but, this is actually written by a man named Joseph Hart. this is more like a poem... it says it is about the battle between the "soul and the believer". (remember, this is from the 1800's) i guess you could say it is like a battle between the old self and new self. it's a bit lengthy, but i think worth it. no matter, i think this is beautiful...

"B: Come, my soul, and let us try

For a little season,

Every burden to lay by;

come, and let us reason.

What is this that casts thee down?

Who are those that grieve thee?

Speak, and let the worst be know;

Speaking may relieve thee.

S: O, I sink beneath the load

Of my nature's evil!

Full of enmity to God;

Captived by the devil;

Restless as the troubled seas;

Feeble, faint, and fearful;

Plagued with every sore disease;

How can I be cheerful?

B: Think on what thy Savior bore

In the gloomy garden,

Sweating blood at every pore,

To procure thy pardon!

See him stretched upon the wood,

Bleeding, grieving, crying,

Suffering all the wrath of God,

Groaning, gasping, dying!

S: This by faith I sometimes view,

And those views relieve me;

But my sins return anew;

These are they that grieve me.

Oh! I'm leprous, stinking, foul,

Quite throughout infected;

Have not I, if any soul,

Cause to be dejected?

B: Think how loud thy dying Lord

Cried out, "It is finished!"

Treasure up that sacred word,

Whole and undiminished;

Doubt not he will carry on,

To its full perfection,

That good work he has begun;

Why, then, this dejection?

S: Faith when void of works is dead;

This the scriptures witness;

And what works have I to plead,

Who am all unfitness?

All my powers are depraved,

Blind, perverse, and filthy;

If from death I'm fully saved,

Why am I not healthy?

B: Pore not on thyself too long,

Lest it sink thee lower;

Look to Jesus, kind as strong --

Mercy joined with power:

Every work that thou must do,

Will thy gracious Saviour

For thee work, and in thee too,

Of his special favour.

S: Jesus' precious blood, once spilt,

I depend on solely,

To release and clear my guilt;

But I would be holy.

B: He that bought thee on the cross

Can control thy nature;

Fully purge away thy dross;

Make thee a new creature.

S: That he can I nothing doubt,

Be it but his pleasure.

B: Though it be not done throughout,

May it not in measure?

S: When that measure, far from great,

Still shall seem decreasing?

B: Faint not then, but pray and wait,

Never, never ceasing.

S: What when prayer meets no regard?

B: Still repeat it often.

S: But I feel myself so hard.

B: Jesus will thee soften.

S: But my enemies made head.

B: Let them closer drive thee.

S: But I'm cold, I'm dark, I'm dead.

B: Jesus will revive thee."