1 Though I should seek to wash me clean
In water of the driven snow,
My soul would yet its spots retain,
And sink in conscious guilt and woe.

2 God's law in all its power divine
Condemns my erring soul to death;
Declares the foulness of its sin,
And show the vileness of its worth.

3 There must a Mediator plead
Whom God and man may both embrace,
With God for man to intercede,
And offer us the purchased grace.

4 And thus the Son of God is slain
To be this Mediator crowned;
In him, my soul, be cleansed from stain,
In him thy righteousness be found.