Isaiah lvii. 15. THE Lord will happiness divine On contrite hearts bestow; Then tell me, gracious God, is mine A contrite heart, or no? I hear, but seem to hear in vain, Insensible as steel; If aught is felt, 'tis only pain, To find I cannot feel. I sometimes think myself inclined To love thee, if I could; But often feel another mind, Averse to all that's good. My best desires are faint and few, I fain would strive for more; But when I cry, "My strength renew!" Seem weaker than before. Thy saints are comforted, I know, And love thy house of prayer; I therefore go where others go, But find no comfort there. Oh make this heart rejoice or ache; Decide this doubt for me; And if it be not broken, break,-- And heal it if it be. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SOLDIER GOING TO THE FIELD by WILLIAM DAVENANT SONNET: SILENCE by THOMAS HOOD A PRAYER by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL THE HAYLOFT by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON SAVAGES by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN SOLILOQUY OF A BARD IN THE COUNTRY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |