INCONSISTENCY

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Oct 14, 1873

I pray, “Thy will be done!”—my own I strive to do; I talk about the narrow way— The broad pursue.

“As I forgive, forgive me, Lord,” This is my cry; While in my heart unpardoned wrongs Unburdened lie.

I call myself a friend to Him, The Crucified; I lead a life of selfish ease; He toiled and died.

When I should bear the heavy cross, I lay it down; Yet eagerly I long to grasp The promised crown.

My good resolves, like blighted buds, Drop from life's tree; The fruit that should my garden grace, I do not see.

And still, with noiseless tread, the years Glide swiftly by, And near and nearer do they bring My time to die.

What record will these fleeting years Bear up to Him Who dwells in glory ’mid the saints And seraphim?

Is it of high and holy aims, By weakness crost? Of strivings after better things Too quickly lost?

Of struggles ’gainst the tempter’s wiles When oft assailed, Those conflicts where my sinful heart Has basely failed?

Alas! and is it yet too late The prize to win? Must I still yield myself to be A slave to sin?

I lay my heavy burden down At Jesus’ cross; The gain and honor of the world, I count as dross.

“Thy will be done!”—again I pray, O Father, hear! Thou knowest all my weakness, yet I do not fear. —Sel.