O! make me wise betimes to spy
My danger and my remedy.
4 Behold, I fall before thy face;
My only refuge is thy grace;
No outward forms can make me clean;
The leprosy lies deep within.
5 No bleeding bird, nor bleeding beast,
Nor hyssop-branch, nor sprinkling priest,
Nor running brook, nor flood, nor sea,
Can wash the dismal stain away.
6 Jesus, my God, thy blood alone
Hath power sufficient to atone ;
Thy blood can make me white as snow; No Jewish types could cleanse me so. 7 While guilt disturbs and breaks my peace, Nor flesh nor soul hath rest or ease ; Lord, let me hear thy pardoning voice; And make my broken heart rejoice.
THOU, that hear 'st when sinners cry,
Though all my crimes before thee lie
Behold them not with angry look,
But blot their memory from thy book.
2 Create my nature pure within,
And form my soul averse to sin :
Let thy good Spirit ne 'er depart,
Nor hide thy presence from my heart.
3 I cannot live without thy light,
Cast out and banished from thy sight;
Thine holy joys, my God, restore,
And guard me, that I fall no more.
4 Though I have grieved thy Spirit, Lord,
Thy help and comfort still afford,
And let a wretch come near thy throne,
To plead the merits of thy Son.
5 A broken heart, my God, my King,
Is all the sacrifice I bring;
The God of grace will ne'er despise
A broken heart for sacrifice.
6 My soul lies humbled in the dust,
And owns thy dreadful sentence just;
Look down, Ŏ Lord, with pitying eye,
And save the soul condemned to die.
7 Then will I teach the world thy ways:
Sinners shall learn thy sovereign grace;
I'll lead them to my Saviour's blood,
And they shall praise a pardoning God.
8 O may thy love inspire my tongue!
Salvation shall be all my song;
And all my powers shall join to bless
The Lord, my Strength and Righteousness.
ORD, I would spread my sore distress
And guilt before thine eyes;
Against thy laws, against thy grace,
How high my crimes arise!
2 Hadst thou condemned my soul to hell,
And crushed me to the dust,
Heaven had approved thy vengeance well,
And earth had owned it just.
3 I from the stock of Adam came,
Unholy and unclean;
All my original is shame,
And all my nature sin.
4 Born in a world of guilt, I drew
Contagion with my breath;
And as my days advanced, I grew
A juster prey for death.
5 Cleanse me, O Lord, and cheer my soul
With thy forgiving love;
O! make my broken spirit whole,
And bid my pains remove.
6 Let not thy Spirit e'er depart,
Nor drive me from thy face, Create anew my vicious heart, And fill it with thy grace.
7 Then will I make thy mercy known Before the sons of men:
Backsliders shall address thy throne,
And turn to God again.
GOD of mercy, hear my call,
My load of guilt remove;
Break down this separating wall,
That bars me from thy love.
2 Give me the presence of thy grace;
Then my rejoicing tongue
Shall speak aloud thy righteousness,
And make thy praise my song.
3 No blood of goats nor heifers slain,
For sin could e'er atone;
The death of Christ shall still remain
Sufficient and alone.
4 A soul oppressed with sin's desert,
My God will ne'er despise;
An humble groan, a broken heart,
Is our best sacrifice.
WHY should the mighty make their boast,
And heavenly grace despise?
In their own arm they put their trust,
And fill their mouth with lies.
2 Our God in vengeance shall destroy,
And drive them from his face;
No more shall they his church annoy,
Nor find on earth a place.
3 But like a cultured olive grove,
Dressed in immortal green,
Thy children, blooming in thy love,
Amid thy courts are seen.
4 On thine eternal grace, O Lord,
Thy saints shall rest secure,
And all who trust thy holy word,
Shall find salvation sure.
HY should the haughty tyrant boast
His vengeful arm, his warlike host,
While blood defiles his cruel hand,
And desolation wastes the land?
2 He joys to hear the captive's cry,
The widow's groan, the orphan's sigh;
And when the wearied sword would spare,
His falsehood spreads the fatal snare.
3 He triumphs in the deeds of wrong,
And arms with rage his impious tongue;
With pride proclaims his dreadful power,
And bids the trembling world adore.
4 But God beholds, and with a frown,
Casts to the dust his honours down;
The righteous freed, their hopes recall,
And hail the proud oppressor's fall.
5 How low the proud transgressor lies,
Who dared th' eternal power despise!
And vainly deemed, with envious joy,
His arm almighty to destroy.
6 We praise the Lord, who heard our cries,
And sent salvation from the skies;
The saints who saw our mournful days,
Shall join our grateful songs of praise.
RE all the foes of Sion fools,
Who thus destroy her saints?
Do they not know her Saviour rules,
And pities her complaints?
2 They shall be seized with sad surprise;
For God's avenging arm
Shall crush the hand that dares arise,
To do his children harm.
3 In vain the sons of Satan boast,
Of armies in array;
When God on high dismays their host,
They fall an easy prey.
4 0! for a word from Sion's King,
Her captives to restore!
The joyful saints thy praise shall sing,
And Israel weep no more.
BEHOLD us, Lord, and let our cry,
Before thy throne ascend;
Cast thou on us a pitying eye,
And still our lives defend.
2 For impious foes insult us round;
Oppressive, proud, and vain;
They cast thy temples to the ground,
And all our rites profane.
3 Yet thy forgiving grace we trust,
And in thy power rejoice;
Thine arm shall bring our foes to dust,
Thy praise inspire our voice.
4 Be thou with those whose friendly hand
Upheld us in distress,
Extend thy truth through every land,
And still thy people bless.
GOD, my Refuge, hear my cries,
Behold my flowing tears;
For earth and hell my hurt devise,
And triumph in my fears.
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