“He will reprove … of sin.” John 16. 8
J. Berridge 112th
No awful sense we find of sin,
The sinful life and sinful heart;
No loathing of the plague within,
Until the Lord that feel impart;
But when the Spirit of truth is come,
A sinner trembles at his doom.
Convinced and piercèd through and through,
He thinks himself the sinner chief;
And, conscious of his mighty woe,
Perceives at length his unbelief;
Good creeds may stock his head around,
But in his heart no faith is found.
No power his nature can afford
To change his heart, or purge his guilt;
No help is found but in the Lord,
No balm but in the blood he spilt;
A ruined soul, condemned he stands,
And unto Jesus lifts his hands.
So lift I up my hands and eyes,
And all my help in Jesus seek.
Lord, bring thy purging sacrifice
To wash me white, and make me meek;
And give me more enlargèd faith,
To view the wonders of thy death.