Lyrics

I Cannot skill of these thy ways. Lord, thou didst make me, yet thou woundest me; Lord, thou dost wound me, yet thou dost relieve me: Lord, thou relievest, yet I die by thee: Lord, thou dost kill me, yet thou dost reprieve me. But when I mark my life and praise, Thy justice me most fitly payes: For, I do praise thee, yet I praise thee not: My prayers mean thee, yet my prayers stray: I would do well, yet sinne the hand hath got: My soul doth love thee, yet it loves delay. I cannot skill of these my wayes.