1 Strange that so much of Heav'n and Hell
Should in One Bosom meet;
Lord, can thy Spirit ever dwell
Where Satan ha a Seat?

2 Now I am all transform'd to Love,
And could expire in Praise;
Then soon not all the Joys above
One chearful Note can raise.

3 When I with pensive Thoughts review
The Mazes I have trod,
Astonish'd at the Grace that drew
My wand'ring Soul to God;

4 Oh with what ardent Zeal I Vow
A rectitude within!
What Indignation fires me now,
At the mear Thoughts of Sin!

5 But vain Amusements, hurrying Cares,
Trifles of Loss or Gain,
Or Carnal Joys, or worldly Fears,
Seduce my Heart again.

6 By faithful Hopes, and golden Dreams,
I'm nurtur'd or betray'd,
Still toss'd between the two Extremes,
Too Vain, or too Dismay'd.

7 Decide the dubious awful Case,
By some alluring Sign;
And oh may thy all conqu'ring Grace
Declare that I am Thine!