A DIALOGUE BETWEEN A BELIEVER AND HIS SOUL

 Words by Joseph Hart
 Music arranged by Miss M. A. Hendon, Sacred Harp, p. 448.

Believer
 Come, my soul, and let us try,
  For a little season,
 Every burden to lay by;
  Come, and let us reason. 
 What is this that casts thee down?
  Who are those that grieve you?
 Speak, and let the worst be known;
  Speaking may relieve thee.

Soul
 Oh! I sink beneath the load
  Of my natures evil;
 Full of enmity to God;
  Captiv'd by the devil;
 Restless as the troubled seas;
  Feeble, faint, and fearful;
 Plagued with every sore disease;
  How can I be cheerful?

Believer
 Think on what thy Savior bore
  In the gloomy garden.
 Sweating blood at ev'ry pore,
  To procure thy pardon!
 See him stretched upon the wood,
  Bleeding, grieving, crying,
 Suffering all the wrath of God,
  Groaning, gasping, dying!

Soul
 This by faith I sometimes view,
  And those views relieve me;
 But my sins return anew;
  These are they that grieve me.
 Oh! I'm leprous, stinking, foul,
  Quite throughout infected;
 Have not I, if any soul,
  Cause to be dejected?

Believer
 Think how loud thy dying Lord
  Cry'd out, "It is finish'd!"
 Treasure up that sacred word,
  Whole and undiminish'd;
 Doubt not he will carry on,
  To its full perfection,
 That good work he has begun;
  Why, then, this dejection?

Soul
 Faith when void of works is dead;
  This the scriptures witness;
 And what works have I to plead,
  Who am all unfitness?
 All my powers are deprav'd,
  Blind, perverse, and filthy:
 If from death I'm fully sav'd,
  Why am I not healthy?

Believer
 Pore not on thyself too long,
  Lest it sink you lower;
 Look to Jesus, kind as strong
  Mercy join'd with power;
 Ev'ry work that thou must do,
  Will your gracious Saviour
 For thee work, and in thee too,
  Of his special favor.

Soul
 Jesu's precious blood, once spilt,
  I depend on solely,
 To release and clear my guilt;
  But I would be holy.

Believer
 He that bought thee on the cross
  Can control thy nature,
 Fully purge away thy dross;
  Make thee a new creature.

Soul
 That he can I nothing doubt,
  Be it but his pleasure;

Believer
 Tho' it be not done throughout,
  May it not in measure?

Soul
 When that measure, far from great,
  Still shall seem decreasing?

Believer
 Faint not then, but pray and wait,
  Never, never ceasing.

Soul 
 What, when pray'r meets no regard?
Believer 
  Still repeat it often.
Soul 
 But I feel myself so hard--
Believer 
  Jesus will thee soften.

Soul 
 But my enemies make head--
Believer 
  Let them closer drive thee.
Soul 
 But I'm cold, I'm dark, I'm dead--
Believer 
  Jesus will revive thee!