The Lamentation of a New-born Soul.  Job 40. 4

J. Newton                    S.M.

O Lord, how vile am I,
Unholy and unclean!
How can I dare to venture nigh
With such a load of sin?

Is this polluted heart
A dwelling fit for thee?
Swarming, alas! in every part,
What evils do I see!

[If I attempt to pray,
And lisp thy holy name;
My thoughts are hurried soon away,
I know not where I am.]

[If in thy word I look,
Such darkness fills my mind;
I only read a sealèd book,
And no relief can find.]

[Thy gospel oft I hear,
But hear it still in vain;
Without desire, or love, or fear,
I like a stone remain.]

Myself can hardly bear
This wretched heart of mine!
How hateful, then, must it appear
To those pure eyes of thine!

And must I, then, indeed,
Sink in despair and die?
Fain would I hope that thou didst bleed
For such a wretch as I.

That blood which thou hast spilt,
That grace which is thy own,
Can cleanse the vilest sinner’s guilt,
And soften hearts of stone.

Low at thy feet I bow;
O pity and forgive!
Here will I lie, and wait till thou
Shalt bid me rise and live.


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