HOW sad our state by nature is!
   Our sin how deep it stains!
And Satan binds our captive minds
    Fast in his slavish chains.
2  But there’s a voice of sovereign grace
    Sounds from the sacred Word,
‘Come, all despairing sinners, come,
    And trust upon the Lord.’
3  My soul obeys the almighty call,
    And runs to this relief;
I would believe Thy promise, Lord,
    O help my unbelief.
4  To the dear fountain of Thy blood,
    Incarnate God, I fly;
Here let me wash my guilty soul
    From crimes of deepest dye.
5  A guilty, weak and helpless worm,
    On Thy kind arms I fall;
Be Thou my strength and righteousness,
    My Jesus and my All.
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748