Hymnal & Psalter

How sad our state by nature is, Our sin how deep it stains; And Satan binds our captive minds Fast in his slavish chains. But there's a voice of sov'reign grace Sounds from the sacred Word, "Ho! ye despairing sinners come, And trust upon the Lord." My soul obeys th'almighty call, And runs to this relief; I would believe Thy promise, Lord; O help my unbelief. Unto the fountain of Thy blood, Incarnate God, I fly; Here let me wash my spotted soul From crimes of deepest dye. Stretch out Thine arm, victorious King, My reigning sins subdue; And drive the dragon from his seat, With all his hellish crew. A guilty weak and helpless worm, On Thy kind arms I fall, Be Thou my strength and righteousness, My Jesus, and my all.