1 How sad our state by nature is;
Our sin how deep it stains!
And Satan holds our captive minds
Fast in his slavish chains.

2 But there's a voice of sovereign grace,
Sounds from the sacred word;
"Ho! ye despairing sinners, come!
And trust a pardoning Lord."

3 My soul obeys the almighty call,
And runs to this relief;
I would believe thy promise, Lord;
O, help my unbelief!

4 A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,
In thy kind arms I fall;
Be thou my Strength and Righteousness,
My Saviour and my All.