Author: Isaac Watts
O Thou Who hears when sinners cry,
Though all my crimes before Thee lie,
Behold them not with angry look,
But blot their mem’ry from Thy book.
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.
My soul lies humbled in the dust,
And owns Thy dreadful sentence just:
Look down, O Lord, with pitying eye,
And save the soul condemned to die.
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.
Then will I teach the world Thy ways;
Sinners shall learn Thy sov’reign grace;
I’ll lead them to my Savior’s blood,
And they shall praise a pard’ning God.
O may Thy love inspire my tongue!
Salvation shall be all my song;
And all my pow’rs shall join to bless
The Lord, my strength and righteousness.
