Astonished and distressed,
  I turn mine eyes within;
My heart with loads of guilt oppressed,
  The source of every sin.

2 What crowds of evil thoughts,
  What vile affections there! 
Envy and pride, deceit and guile,
  Distrust and slavish fear.

3 Almighty King of saints! 
  These tyrant lusts subdue;
Drive the old serpent from his seat,
  And all my powers renew.

4 This done,—­my cheerful voice
  Shall loud hosannas raise;
My heart shall glow with gratitude,
  My lips be filled with praise.

     Benjamin Beddome, 1787.

180 Olmutz.  S.M.

The Reign of Sin. (407)

How heavy is the night
  That hangs upon our eyes,
Till Christ with his reviving light
  Over our souls arise.

2 Our guilty spirits dread
  To meet the wrath of heaven;
But, in his righteousness arrayed,
  We see our sins forgiven.

3 The powers of hell agree
  To hold our souls in vain;
He sets the sons of bondage free,
  And breaks the cursed chain.

4 Lord, we adore thy ways
  To bring us near to God,
Thy sovereign power, thy healing grace,
  And thine atoning blood.

     Isaac Watts, 1709.

181 Downs.  C.M.

The Need of Regeneration. (396)

How helpless guilty nature lies,
  Unconscious of its load! 
The heart, unchanged, can never rise
  To happiness and God.

2 Can aught, beneath a power divine,
  The stubborn will subdue? 
’Tis thine, almighty Spirit! thine,
  To form the heart anew.

3 ’Tis thine, the passions to recall,
  And upward bid them rise;
To make the scales of error fall,
  From reason’s darkened eyes.

4 Oh! change these wretched hearts of ours,
  And give them life divine;
Then shall our passions and our powers,
  Almighty Lord! be thine.

     Anne Steele, 1760.

182 Downs.  C.M.

Pardon and Sanctification in Christ. (397)

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 sovereign grace
  Sounds from the sacred word;—­
“Ho! ye despairing sinners! come
  And trust a faithful Lord.”

3 My soul obeys the gracious call
  And runs to this relief;
I would believe thy promise, Lord! 
  Oh! help my unbelief.

4 To the blest fountain of thy blood,
  Incarnate God!  I fly;
Here let me wash my spotted soul,
  From crimes of deepest dye.

5 A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,
  On thy kind arms I fall;
Be thou my strength and righteousness
  My Jesus, and my all.

     Isaac Watts, 1707.

183 Downs.  C.M.

Man’s Need of the New Birth. (400)