A Small Collection of Hymns :: :: University of Virginia Library

Perronet, Edward (1721-1792)

The Backslider reprov'd.

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Bewilder'd, dark, confus'd and blind,
Heavy my heart, opprest my mind;
Scatter'd my thoughts, and rang'd abroad,
I neither seek, nor find a God.

But how into this state I came;
Whom to accuse, or what to blame,
I neither know nor can I tell,
Only I feel my soul unwell.

'Tis something at the bottom there,
Some rotten hope or rankling care,
That thus foments my misery:
My heart! 'tis thy hypocrisy.

Thou know'st I'm neither meek nor mild;
A rebel, not a little child;
More like a savage of the wood,
Nor yet estrang'd from creature good.

Here then I think the secret lies,
Why griefs increase and sorrows rise:
The cause is trac'd from it's event,
And every pang cries out, Repent.

From self and sin, lo! now I turn,
To him who feels my spirit mourn;
And who alone will mercy shew,
When all besides would let me go!