Indexes for The Sacred Harp, 2025 Edition

I am a great complainer that bears the name of Christ;
Come, all ye Zion mourners, and listen to my cries;
I’ve many sore temptations and sorrows to my soul;
I feel my faith declining, and my affections cold.

I wish it was with me now as in the days of old,
The glorious light of Jesus was flowing in my soul,
But now I am distressed, and no relief can find,
A hard, deceitful heart and a wretched, wand’ring mind.

It is great pride and passion beset me on my way,
So I am filled with folly and so neglect to pray;
I am so weak I stumble, and so I’m left behind,
While others run rejoicing and seem to lose no time.