Weak, wretched sinner though I be,
My trembling soul would fain be Thine,
My feeble faith still clings to Thee.
Not only for the past I grieve,
the future fills me with dismay;
Unless Thou hasten to relieve,
I know my heart will fall away.
I cannot say my faith is strong,
I dare not hope my love is great,
But strength and love to Thee belong,
Oh do not leave me desolate!
I know I owe my all to Thee,
Oh! Take this heart I cannot give.
Do Thou my Strength and Saviour be:
And make me to Thy glory live!
This poem has been a zinger for me. I am almost done memorizing it, thanks to dry erase marker on my bathroom mirror. I can't wait to give those Bronte sisters a hug in heaven. They just know how to say it sometimes.
p.s.
fain
[feyn]
adverb
1.
gladly; willingly: He fain would accept.
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