I would, but cannot, sing,
I would, but cannot, pray;
For Satan meets me when I try,
And frights my soul away.

I would, but can’t, repent,
Though I endeavor oft;
This stony heart can ne’er relent
Till Jesus makes it soft.

I would, but cannot, love,
Though loved by love divine;
No arguments have pow’r to move
A soul so base as mine.

I would, but cannot, rest
In God’s most holy will;
I know what he appoints is best,
Yet murmur at it still.

Oh, could I but believe!
Then all would easy be;
I would, but cannot — Lord, relieve,
My help must come from thee!

But if indeed I would,
Though I can nothing do,
Yet the desire is something good,
For which my praise is due.

By nature prone to ill,
Till thine appointed hour,
I was as destitute of will
As now I am of power.

Wilt thou not crown at length
The work thou hast begun?
And, with the will, afford me strength
In all thy ways to run?