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 sovereign 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 die.
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.