1 Lord, how secure my conscience was,
And felt no inward dread!
I was alive without the law,
And thought my sins were dead.

2 My hopes of heav'n were firm and bright;
But since the precept came
With a convincing pow'r and light,
I find how vile I am.

3 My guilt appear'd but small before,
Till terribly I saw
How perfect, holy, just, and pure,
Was thy eternal law.

4 Then felt my soul the heavy load,
My sins reviv'd again;
I had provok'd a dreadful God,
And all my hopes were slain.

5 I'm like a helpless captive sold
Under the pow'r of sin;
I cannot do the good I would,
Nor keep my conscience clean.

6 My God, I cry with ev'ry breath,
For some kind pow'r to save,
To break the yoke of sin and death,
And thus redeem the slave.