Christian Songs, Song XLIV

When I my wicked heart survey, And course of life from day to day; There's nought to meet my wretched view, But sin, and death, its proper due.

2 My heart's a source of ev'ry ill, Averse to all that's good my will; And pride, by which the angels fell, Proclaims aloud, I'm ripe for hell.

3 Oh! can a wretch, so vile, so blind, So ripe for hell, forgiveness find? There's not a wretch who breaths the air, Has stronger reasons to despair.

4 But honour, praise, and glory, rise To him who reigns above the skies! To pardon guilt of deepest stains, Unbounded mercy ever reigns!

5 The mighty God, Immanuel, Deign'd on this earth with men to dwell; That sinners might be freed from guilt, The blood of God's own Son was spilt.

6 His chosen he redeem'd from death, When he for them resign'd his breath: Bearing the curse, the wrath divine, That mercy might for ever shine.

7 See from the dead the first-born come! The Lord of life has burst the tomb! To all the world, from this blest hour, Declar'd the Son of God with pow'r.

8 When he had his disciples blest, Who worship'd him, their God confest, To his reward in heav'n he rose, In name and stead of all he chose.

9 At God's right hand most blessed made, The man of sorrows now made glad, His kingdom stands; his reign is sure; His worth for ever doth endure.

10 This is enough;—'tis all we need; The Lord of life is ris'n indeed: The vilest wretch who breathes the air, Has now no reason to despair!

11 O may our joy and boasting be In him, who dy'd upon the tree: May the redemption shining there, For ever shield us from despair.