Ah, Lord, the heart is weighed
With darkened thoughts and lonely sighs;
None care to listen, none have paid
The price, none seek the heavenly prize.
Can seven thousand faithful hide
Among a wayward church? Have they
No objecting voice? Have they not cried
Against the obscene who dance and play?
Where are those men to span the breach?
When will the mouths of liars be closed?
Will brave and fearless shepherds teach?
Will modern prophets be opposed?
Hurry, Lord, move quickly now,
The tide has turned, and evil wins,
The church is yours: I disavow
Where man leaves off and Heaven begins.
Weary am I on earth, and low,
Empty-souled and frail within;
I stay to labor, a Word to sow,
Preferring to leave this world of sin.
What good will preaching forgiveness do?
The gospel’s ignored, the truth unheard;
We’ve toiled, we’re tired, our fruits are few —
But I’ll cast the nets, at your word.