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1 LORD, I would spread my sore distress
And guilt before thine eyes;
Against thy law, against thy grace,
How high my crimes arise!
2 I from the stock of Adam came,
Unholy and unclean;
All my original is shame,
And all my nature sin.
3 Born in a world of guilt, I drew,
Contagion with my breath;
And as my days advanc'd, I grew,
A juster prey for death.
4 Cleanse me, O LORD, and chear my soul
With thy forgiving love;
O make my broken spirit whole,
And bid my sins remove.
5 Let not thy spirit quite depart,
Nor drive me from thy face;
Create anew my vicious heart,
And fill it with thy grace.
6 Then will I make thy mercy known,
Before the sons of men;
Backsliders shall address thy throne,
And turn to GOD again.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Lord, I would spread my sore distress |
Meter: | Common Metre |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1790 |
Scripture: | |
Topic: | After Sermon |