Verse 1
In trouble I seek thee, O God,
Compell’d by the burthen I bear,
Constrain’d by the stroke of thy rod
I pour out a penitent prayer:
Ah! Do not abhor my sad moan,
Extorted, alas! By distress,
But hear, and with pity look down,
And send me an answer of peace.
Verse 2
What must a poor prodigal do
Thy forfeited grace to regain?
My trouble I only can shew,
And tell thee my sorrow and pain:
I only for mercy can cry,
And groan with the sense of my load.
Save, Lord, or I perish, I die,
I die in my sins, and my blood.
Verse 3
I own, I have sinn’d in thy sight,
Have sinn’d against knowledge and love,
And done thy good Spirit despite;
Yet look on my surety above!
His passion alone is my plea,
His free inexhaustible grace:
My Advocate answer’d for me,
And Jesus hath died in my place.
Verse 4
O Father of mercies restore,
For Jesus’s merits alone,
And heal a backslider once more,
And give me again to thy Son:
If still thou art able to spare
If infinite mercy thou art,
Reply to my penitent prayer,
And whisper thy peace to my heart.