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 Sov'reign 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 dye.

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.