Bitter and Sweet
Kindle, Saviour, in my heart, A flame of love divine; Hear, for mine I trust thou art, And sure I would be thine; If my soul has felt thy grace, If to me thy name is known; Why should trifles fill the place Due to thyself alone? 'Tis a strange mysterious life I live from day to day; Light and darkness, peace and strife, Bear an alternate sway: When I think the battle won, I have to fight it o'er again; When I say I'm overthrown, Relief I soon obtain. Often at the mercy-seat, While calling on thy name, Swarms of evil thoughts I meet, Which fill my soul with shame. Agitated in my mind, Like a feather in the air, Can I thus a blessing find? My soul, can this be pray'r? But when Christ, my Lord and Friend, Is pleas'd to show his pow'r All at once my troubles end, And I've a golden hour; Then I see his smiling face, Feel the pledge of joys to come: Often, Lord, repeat this grace Till thou shalt call me home.
John Newton’s other poems:
