1 When with my mind devoutly press'd,
Dear Saviour, my revolving breast
Would past offences trace;
Trembling I make the black review,
Yet pleas'd behold, admiring too,
The pow'r of changing grace.
2 This tongue with blasphemies defil'd,
These feet to erring paths beguil'd,
In heav'nly league agree.
Who would believe such lips could praise,
Or think from dark and winding ways,
I e'er should turn to thee?
3 These eyes that once abus'd the light,
Now lift to thee their wat'ry sight,
And weep a silent flood;
These hands are rais'd in ceaseless pray'r,
Oh wash away the stains they wear,
In pure redeeming blood.
4 These ears that once could entertain
The midnight oath, the lustful strain,
Around the festive board;
Now deaf to all th' enchanting noise,
Avoid the throng, detest the joys,
And long to hear thy word.
5 Thus art thou serv'd in ev'ry part,
Go on, bless'd Lord to cleanse my heart,
That drossy thing refine;
That grace may nature's pow'rs control,
And a new creature, body, soul,
Be all and wholly thine!