1 Happy the man to whom his God No more imputes his sin, But wash'd in the Redeemer's blood, Hath made his garments clean!
2 Happy, beyond expression, he Whose debts are thus discharg'd; And from the guilty bondage free, He feels his soul enlarg'd.
3 His spirit hates deceit and lies, His words are all sincere; He guards his heart, he guards his eyes, To keep his conscience clear.
4 While I my inward guilt supprest, No quiet could I find; Thy wrath lay burning in my breast, And rack'd my tortur'd mind.
5 Then I confess'd my troubled thoughts, My secret sins reveal'd; Thy pardoning grace forgave my faults, Thy grace my pardon seal'd.
6 This shall invite thy saints to pray, When, like a raging flood, Temptations rise, our strength and stay Is a forgiving God.