I want to want you most of all,
But time and time again I fall.
No rhyme or reason for disgrace.
I long to see your holy face.
But every day I try anew,
And every day I turn from you
This flesh must somehow be controlled,
Or I will never be consoled.
How did the saints of then and now,
In humble adoration bow?
Submitting to the will of God
In every path of life they trod.
They somehow learned to sacrifice,
And let your grace their needs suffice.
My will is weak in times of trial.
I fall away and then defile,
Whatever grace I had and then,
I start from scratch and try again.