Classic Poem

XCIX

W RAPP'D up, O Lord, in man's degeneration
The glories of Thy truth, Thy joys eternal,
Reflect upon my soul's dark desolation.
And ugly prospects o'er the spirits infernal.
" Lord, I have sinn'd, and mine iniquity,
" Deserves this Hell; yet Lord deliver me."

Thy power and mercy never comprehended,
Rest lively imag'd in my conscience wounded;
Mercy to grace, and power to fear extended,
Both infinite, and I in both confounded;
" Lord, I have sinn'd, and mine iniquity,
" Deserves this hell; yet Lord deliver me."

If from this depth of sin, this hellish grave,
And fatal absence from my Saviour's glory,
I could implore His mercy Who can save,
And for my sins, not pains of sin, be sorry:
Lord from this horror of iniquity,
And hellish grave, Thou wouldst deliver me.