Behold, I Am Vile

I

  O Lord, how vile am I,
  Unholy and unclean!
How can I dare to venture nigh
  With such a load of sin?

II

  Is this polluted heart
  A dwelling fit for thee;
Swarming, alas! in every part,
  What evils do I see!

III

  If I attempt to pray,
  And lisp thy holy name,
My thoughts are hurried soon away,
  I know not where I am.

IV

  If in thy word I look,
  Such darkness fills my mind,
I only read a sealed book,
  But no relief can find.

V

  Thy gospel oft I hear,
  But hear it still in vain:
Without desire or love or fear,
  I like a stone remain.

VI

  Myself can hardly bear
  This wretched heart of mine;
How hateful then must it appear
  To those pure eyes of thine!

VII

  And must I then indeed
  Sink in despair and die?
Fain would I hope that thou didst bleed
  For such a wretch as I.

VIII

  That blood which thou hast spilt,
  That grace which is thine own,
Can cleanse the vilest sinner’s guilt,
  And soften hearts of stone.

IX

  Low at thy feet I bow,
  Oh pity and forgive;
Here will I lie, and wait till thou
  Shalt bid me raise and live.