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971.

[Infinite in compassion]

Consider my complaint, for I am brought very low. —cxlii. 7.

Infinite in compassion,
Consider my complaint,
While under condemnation,
And perishing for want:

338

I pour a mournful prayer,
For mercy, mercy sigh,
In depth of sad despair,
Just at the point to die.
Cause of my own undoing,
From Thee through sin I fell,
Rush'd on to endless ruin,
Debased myself to hell.
Yet, ere the pit devour,
For help I feebly call,
Brought down by Satan's power
Low as a soul can fall.
My most long-suffering Saviour,
Extend Thy arms of grace,
And manifest Thy favour
A prostrate wretch to raise.
My desperate soul's physician
If Thou vouchsafe to be,
From bottomless perdition
Redeem'd, I live for Thee.