Verse 1
A leprous soul that feels
The loathsomness of sin,
To Christ his case reveals,
And longs to be made clean,
His humble faith to Christ applies,
And little speaks, but much it sighs.

Verse 2
O’rewhelm’d beneath the load
Of his impurity,
A long-offended God
Asham’d he is to see,
Low in the dust he hides his face,
And conscious of his vileness, prays.

Verse 3
Mine universal sin,
Lord, I to Thee confess,
Corrupt without, within,
Full of a sore disease,
Of bruises, wounds, and putrid sores,
My spirit at thy feet adores.

Verse 4
Of grace I never will,
But of myself despair;
Able Thou art to heal,
Thou hear’st a sinner’s prayer:
My faith is strong, my hope is sure,
A touch of thine can make me pure.