EHOVAH speaks, let man be awed,
And deep attention give;
Ye sinners, hear the way to God!
Ye dead, arise and live!
2 Trust not in earthly wealth and show,
Vain, vain are they to save;
Gold cannot buy release from woe,
Or ransom from the
3 Worlds cannot reach the mighty price
Of one immortal soul;
No, Lord, Thy blood and sacrifice
Alone can make us whole.
4 In Thee be our salvation sure,
No other wealth we seek;
We're rich in Thee, however poor,
And strong, however weak.
Henry Francis Lyte, 1834.
HE Lord, the Judge, before His throne, Bids the whole earth draw ni nigh, The nations near the rising sun, And near the western sky.
2 No more shall bold blasphemers say,
Judgment will ne'er begin;"
No more abuse His long delay
To impudence and sin.
3 Throned on a cloud our God shall come,
Bright flames
prepare
Thunder and darkness, fire and storm,
Lead on the dreadful day.
4 Heaven from above His call shall hear, Attending angels come,
And earth and hell shall know and fear
His justice and their doom.
HOW pity, Lord; O Lord, forgive;
Let a repenting rebel live:
Are not Thy mercies large and free?
May not a sinner trust in Thee?
2 My crimes are great, but don't surpass
The power and glory of Thy grace:
Great God, Thy nature hath no bound,
So let Thy pardoning love be found.
3 Oh wash my soul from every sin,
And make my guilty conscience clean;
Here, on my heart, the burden lies,
And past offences pain my eyes.
4 My lips, with shame, my sins confess
Against Thy law, against Thy grace:
Lord, should Thy judgment grow severe,
I am condemn'd, but Thou art clear.
5 Should sudden vengeance seize my breath,
I must pronounce Thee just in death;
And, if my soul were sent to hell,
Thy righteous law approves it well.
6 Yet save a trembling sinner, Lord:
Whose hope, still hovering round Thy word, Would light on some sweet promise there,
Some sure support against despair.
PSALM 51. VERSION II.
LORD, I am vile, conceived in sin,
And born unholy and unclean;
Sprung from the man whose guilty fall
Corrupts the race, and taints us all.
2 Soon as we draw our infant breath,
The seeds of sin grow up for death;
Thy law demands a perfect heart,
But we're defiled in every part.
3 Behold I fall before Thy face,
My only refuge is Thy grace;
No outward forms can make me clean;
The leprosy lies deep within.
4 No bleeding bird, nor bleeding beast,
Nor hyssop branch, nor sprinkling priest,
Nor running brook, nor flood nor sea,
Can wash the dismal stain away.
5 Jesus, my God! Thy blood alone
Hath power sufficient to atone;
Thy blood can make me white as snow;
No Jewish types could cleanse me so.
PSALM 51. VERSION III. L. M. THOU that hear'st when sinners cry, Though all my crimes before Thee lie, Behold them not with angry look, But blot their memory from Thy book. 2 Create my nature pure within, And form my soul averse to sin; Let Thy good Spirit ne'er depart, Nor hide Thy presence from my heart.
3 Though I have grieved Thy Spirit, Lord,
His help and comfort still afford;
And let a wretch come near Thy throne,
To plead the merits of Thy Son.
4 A broken heart, my God, my King,
Is all the sacrifice I bring;
The God of grace will ne'er despise
A broken heart for sacrifice.
5 My soul lies humbled in the dust,
And owns Thy dreadful sentence just;
Look down, O Lord, with pitying eye
And save the soul condemn'd to die.
6 Then will I teach the world Thy ways;
Sinners shall learn Thy sovereign grace;
I'll lead them to my Saviour's blood,
And they shall praise a pardoning God.
7 Oh may Thy love inspire my tongue;
Salvation shall be all my song;
And all my powers shall join to bless
The Lord, my strength and righteousness.
Isaac Watts, 1719.
PSALM 51. VERSION IV. C. M.
1 GOD of mercy, hear my call,
My load of guilt remove;
Break down this separating wall
That bars me from Thy love.
2 Give me the presence of Thy grace:
Then my rejoicing tongue
Shall speak aloud Thy righteousness,
And make Thy praise my song.
3 No blood of goats, nor heifer slain,
For sin could e'er atone:
The death of Christ shall still remain
Sufficient and alone.
4 A soul oppress'd with sin's desert,
My God will ne'er despise!
A humble groan, a broken heart,
Is our best sacrifice.
IN Taiwork the church's ill,
N vain the powers of darkness try
The Friend of sinners reigns on high,
And checks them at His will.
2 Though mischief in their hearts may dwell,
And on their tongues deceit,
A word of His their pride can quell,
And all their aims defeat.
3 My trust is in His grace alone;
His house shall be my home,
How sweet His mercies past to own,
And hope for more to come.
Henry Francis Lyte, 1834.
HE foes of Zion quake for fright,
Where no fear was they quail;
For well they know that sword of might
Which cuts through coats of mail.
2 The Lord of old defiled their shields,
And laugh'd their spears to scorn;
Their bones lay scatter'd o'er the fields,
By dogs and vultures torn.
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