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1 How sad our State by Nature is!
Our Sin how deep it stains!
And Satan binds our captive Minds
Fast in his slavish Chains.
2 But there's a Voice of Sov'reign Grace
Sounds from the sacred Word;
Ho! ye despairing Sinners, come,
And trust upon the Lord.
3 My Soul obeys th' Almighty Call,
And runs to this Relief;
I would believe thy Promise, Lord;
O! help my Unbelief.
[4 To the dear fountain of thy Blood,
Incarnate God! I fly;
Here let me wash my spotted Soul
From Crimes of deepest dye.
5 Stretch out thine Arm, victorious King
My reigning Sins subdue;
Drive the old Dragon from his Seat,
With all his hellish Crew.]
6 A guilty, weak, and helpless Worm,
On thy kind Arms I fall;
Be thou my Strength and Righteousness,
My Jesus, and my All.
| Text Information | |
|---|---|
| First Line: | How sad our State by Nature is! |
| Language: | English |
| Publication Date: | 1791 |
| Topic: | Fall of Man, or Depravity of Humna Nature |
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