883    148th     John Berridge
“Draw me, we will run after thee.” Song 1. 4; Lam. 5. 21

1 How backward is my heart
  In search of endless life!
  How loth with toys to part,
  Which only bring me grief!
  Small riddance in the race I make,
  Yet pant for breath each step I take.

2 I cannot well abide
  The cross’s daily load,
  It makes me start aside,
  And leave the narrow road;
  Like some raw bullock not well broke,
  My shoulder frets beneath the yoke.

3 Erewhile I sit and sigh,
  And loathe my folly too;
  Then up I get and try
  What human might can do;
  Lay to my arm, but all in vain;
  No arm of mine can break the chain.

4 Ah! whither must I go,
  Since flesh and reason fail?
  No help on earth, I know,
  Can o’er my heart prevail;
  No arm can reach my desperate case
  But his whose name is Truth and Grace.

5 To him I lift my eyes;
  Thou Son of David, hear,
  And let my feeble cries
  Bring thy salvation near;
  My froward heart is in thy hand,
  And it will move at thy command.