1 I ask'd the Lord that I might grow
In faith, and love, and every grace,
Might more of his salvation know,
And seek, more earnestly, his face.

2 'Twas he who taught me thus to pray,
And he, I trust, has answer'd prayer;
But it has been in such a way
As almost drove me to despair.

3 I hop'd that in some favor'd hour
At once he'd answer my request,
And by his love's constraining power
Subdue my sins and give me rest.

4 Instead of this he made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart,
And let the angry powers of hell
Assault my soul in every part.

5 Yea, more, with his own hand he seem'd
Intent to aggravate my wo,
Cross'd all the fair designs I schem'd,
Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.

6 "Lord, why is this?" I trembling cry'd;
"Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death?"
"'Tis in this way," the Lord replied,
"I answer prayer for grace and faith!

7 "These inward trials I employ
From self and pride to set thee free:
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou may'st seek thy all in me."