1 My God, since I can call thee mine,
And mine thou surely art;
Why should I ever once repine,
In language, or in heart.

2 Alas! the cause is clearly seen,
From whence these murm'rings rise;
My parents sold me under sin,
How deep the evil lies!

3 Within my members there's a law,
That wars against my mind,
Which strives my spirit still to draw
From thee, the good, and kind.

4 With buffetting my soul is sore,
But this is Satan's part;
The thorn within the flesh, still more,
Inflicts the poignant smart.

5 Great God! attend thy suppliant's pray'r,
Whilst I for succour call!
And pour into thy servant's ear
The words thou spak'st to Paul.

6 Then in thy grace secure I'll rest,
'Twill be sufficient found;
'Till caught from earth to heav'n, I'm blest,
With life, and glory crown'd.