My Soul Lies Cleaving to the Dust

My soul lies cleav­ing to the dust;

Lord

give me life di­vine;

From vain de­sires and ev­ery lust

Turn off these eyes of mine.

I need the in­flu­ence of Thy grace

To speed me in Thy way

Lest I should loi­ter in my race

Or turn my feet as­tray.

When sore af­flict­ions press me down

I need Thy quick­en­ing pow­ers;

Thy Word that I have rest­ed on

Shall help my hea­vi­est hours.

Are not Thy mer­cies sov­er­eign still

And Thou a faith­ful God?

Wilt Thou not grant me warm­er zeal

To run the heav’n­ly road?

Does not my heart Thy pre­cepts love

And long to see Thy face?

And yet how slow my spir­its move

Without en­liv­en­ing grace!

Then shall I love Thy Gos­pel more

And ne’er for­get Thy Word

When I have felt its quick­en­ing pow­er

To draw me near the Lord.