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 sometimes go where others go, But find no comfort there.