1 O Jesus Christ, if sin there be,
In all our former years,
That wrings the soul with agony,
And chokes the heart with tears;
It is the deep ingratitude,
Which we to thee have shown,
Who didst for us in tears and blood
Upon the cross atone.

2 Alas, how with our actions all
Has this defect entwined;
And poisoned with its bitter gall,
The spirit, heart, and mind!
Alas, through this, how many gems
Have we not cast away,
That might have formed our diadems
In everlasting day!

3 Yet though the time be past and gone;
Though little more remains;
Though naught is all that can be done,
Ev'n with our utmost pains:
Still, Jesus, in thy grace we try
To do what in us lies;
For never did thy loving eye
The contrite heart despise.