1 O Lord, my God, in mercy turn,
In mercy hear a sinner mourn!
To thee I call, to thee I cry,
O leave me, leave me not to die!

2 O pleasures past, what are you now
But thorns about my bleeding brow?
Spectres that hover round my brain,
And aggravate and mock my pain.

3 For pleasure I have given my soul;
Now justice, let thy thunders roll!
Now vengeance smile--and with a blow,
Lay the rebellious ingrate low.

4 Yet Jesus, Jesus! there I'll cling,
I'll crowd beneath his sheltering wing;
I'll clasp the cross, and holding there,
E'en me, oh bliss!--his wrath may spare