How Sad Our State By Nature Is!
Our Sin, How Deep It Stains!
And Satan Binds Our Captive Souls
Fast In His Slavish Chains.
But Hark! A Voice Of Sovereign Grace
Sounds From The Sacred Word;
“Ho, Ye Despairing Sinners, Come,
And Trust Upon The Lord!”
My Soul Obeys The Almighty’s Call,
And Runs To This Relief;
I Would Believe Thy Promise, Lord;
O Help My Unbelief!
To The Blest Fountain Of Thy Blood,
Incarnate God, I Fly;
Here Let Me Wash My Spotted Soul
From Sins Of Deepest Dye.
A Guilty, Weak, And Helpless Worm,
Into Thy Hands I Fall;
Be Thou My Strength And Righteousness,
My Saviour, And My All.