Verse 1
Wretch that I am, what help, or hope
Of rescue is for me!
Have I not fill’d the measure up
Of mine iniquity?
Verse 2
Have I not fought against my God,
(Alas no longer mine)
Refus’d to hear the threatning rod,
And dar’d the wrath divine?
Verse 3
From him I farther still have stray’d,
Still more rebellious been,
Of faith a dreadful shipwreck made,
And added sin to sin.
Verse 4
Vilest of all th’ apostate race
I have his love withstood,
And sinn’d against his pardning grace,
And trampled on his blood.
Verse 5
That blood, which speaking once for me
My heart and conscience heard:
But harden’d now my heart I see,
My conscience now is sear’d.
Verse 6
More desp’rate in my damn’d estate,
And more inslav’d I am,
Than when I by the flesh-pots sat,
And wallow’d in my shame.
Verse 7
No power to stand against my sin,
No will, alas! Have I;
But yield to every thought unclean,
And greedily comply.
Verse 8
Draughts of iniquity I drink,
From sin to sin I fall;
Whate’er I do, or speak, or think,
Or am, is evil all.
Verse 9
What shall I do? By guilt opprest,
Shall I in Egypt dwell?
Alas! In sinning to seek rest,
Is to seek rest in hell.
Verse 10
Shall I believe, who made the eye
My folly doth not see,
“Sin in his own he passes by,
He winks at sin in me?”
Verse 11
Ah! No; my spirit’s desp’rate wound
I cannot slightly heal;
No peace is for the wicked found,
The sea is troubled still.
Verse 12
The storm of sin can never cease,
The tumult in my breast,
Unless the Lord create my peace,
And speak me into rest.
Verse 13
This is my only hope (might I
Presume to call it mine)
My soul, tho’ at the point to die,
Would live by grace divine.
Verse 14
The grace I have abus’d, alone
Can help and comfort give,
Would Jesus hear my dying groan,
And bid the sinner live.
Verse 15
Ah! Lord, if I again may dare
For mercy to look up,
Snatch from the whirlpool of despair,
And give me back my hope.
Verse 16
Jesus, the forfeiture restore,
On me the grace bestow,
On even ground to stand once more
Against my mortal foe.
Verse 17
To day, while it is call’d to day,
My stubborn soul convert,
Strike the hard rock, and strike away
The stony from my heart.
Verse 18
O bid me look on thee, and mourn
For all my follies past,
Or let me now to dust return,
And sin and breathe my last.