1 When with my mind devoutly prest
Dear Saviour, my revolving breast
Wou'd past offences trace;
Trembling I make the black review,
Yet pleas'd behold admiring too,
The pow'r of changing grace.

2 This tongue with blasphemies defil'd,
These feet, to erring paths beguil'd,
In heav'nly league agree;
Who cou'd believe such lips cou'd praise,
Or think from dark and winding ways
Should ever lead to thee?

3 These eyes that once abus'd their sight,
Now lift to thee their wat'ry light,
And weep a silent flood;
These hands are rais'd in ceaseless pray'r;
O wash away the stains they wear,
In pure redeeming blood!

4 These ears, that pleas'd cou'd entertain
The midnight oath, the lustful strain,
When round the festal board;
Now deaf to all th' inchanting noise,
Avoid the throng, detest the joys,
And long to hear thy word.

5 Thus art thou serv'd in ev'ry part;
And now thou dost transform my heart,
That drossy thing refine:
That grace may nature's strength controul,
And a new creature — body — soul,
Are, LORD, for ever thine!