1 When I by faith my Maker see
In weakness and distress,
Brought down to that sad state for me
Which angels can’t express;

2 When that great God to whom I go
For help, amazed I view,
By sin and sorrow sunk as low
As I, and lower too;

3 [For all our sins we his may call,
As he sustained their weight;
How huge the heavy load of all,
When only mine’s so great!]

4 Then, ravished with the rich belief
Of such a love as this,
I’m lost in wonder, melt with grief,
And faint beneath the bliss.

5 [Prostrate I fall, ashamed of doubt,
And worship love divine;
Thus may I always be devout;
Be this religion mine.]

6 In this alone I can confide;
Here’s righteousness enough.
What’s all the boast of nature’s pride?
What unsubstantial stuff!

7 [Rounds of dead service, forms, and ways,
Which some so much esteem,
Compared with this stupendous grace,
What trivial trash they seem!]

8 Lord, help a worthless worm, so weak
He can do nothing good;
May all I act, or think, or speak,
Be sprinkled with thy blood!