In the chambers of thy bosom
Lives a faithful monitor,
Keeping vigil for thy freedom,
Bidding thee all sin abhor.
Come, poor sinner, lost and sighing,
Do obey that inner voice;
Hark, it tells of Jesus dying-
Make His love thy holy choice.
In thy heart, O wretched sinner,
Heaven placed that sentinel,
Thee to guard and keep forever
From the awful road to hell.
See the precious blood of Jesus,
It will purge thy conscience pure,
Then in heaven’s sweet approval,
Peace will flow forevermore.
Oh, remember thou art sinning
‘Gainst the very love of God;
Hence thy guilty conscience, stinging,
Smites thee with an angry rod.
Louder, louder, conscience crying,
Suffers not thy soul to rest;
Nearer, nearer, comes thy dying,
Can you face the solemn test?
Hope will end, but conscience never,
With thy spirit it will fly;
Yea, torment, and chide the ever,
Where the worm shall never die.