Poetry

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I do not do the things I should.
I should not, would not if I could.
And though I try, I am not good.
I do not do the things I would-
O wretched man!

I cannot walk as pleaseth God,
Though ev'ry step with caution trod;
Though hard I plan and plea and plod,
I fall again beneath the rod -
O, wretched man!

I cannot reach the heights I please,
Where gently blows consoling breeze,
Where labor fades to blessed ease
And grace each binding shackle frees -
O, wretched man!

This then the victory I find:
Not I or me, nor my or mine
I utilize His power divine,
By simply drawing from the Vine/
O, victory sweet!

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