O thou that hear’st when sinners cry,
though all my crimes before thee lie,
behold them not with angry look,
but blot their memory from thy book.
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.
I cannot live without thy light,
cast out and banish from thy sight;
thy holy joys, my God, restore,
and guard me, that I fall no more.
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.
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.