I cannot, while I mourn,
Behold thy lovely face;
For sin, where’er I turn,
Is felt to my disgrace;
It plagues within, assails without,
it stings my soul, I die throughout.

My soul’s best comforts flee,
Through unbelief and pride;
My sin and enmity
I vainly strive to hide;
For out they creep, my soul defile,
What makes me cry, Behold, I’m vile.

I often feel so dead
To all that’s good and right,
That life seems wholly fled,
And O! how long the night!
’Tis when I fear that I am not thine,
O Lord, arise and on me shine.

Sometimes I’m up and down,
And strangely tempest-toss’d;
Grace seems for ever flown,
And I’m completely cross’d;
O! tell me, Lord, can I be thine,
Whilst I’m so base, – thou so divine!

Yet here I ground my plea,
Jesus has died to save;
He hung upon the tree
To rescue from the grave
Sinners of every kind and name,
For whom he bore the grief and shame.

Now, I’m a sinner, Lord,
A base one, too, I own;
O let thy precious blood
Dissolve my heart of stone;
Then in it stamp thy image clear,
With perfect love that casts out fear.

Author: Unknown

Signs of the Times
Volume 28, Number 6; March 15, 1860

Below are the songs that were made from the poem using AI. They are identified
by the genre of the music in paranthesis.