Isaac Watts, 1719, a. 420 L. M. 6 l Th’ abyss of many a former sin Encloses me and bars me in; Like billows my transgressions roll— Be Thou the Pilot of my soul— And to salvation’s harbor bring, Thou Savior and Thou glorious King! 2. My Father’s heritage abused, Wasted by lust, by sin misused, To shame and want and misery brought, The slave to many a fruitless thought:— I cry to Thee, who lovest men, O pity and receive again! 3. In hunger now, no more possest Of that my portion bright and blest, The exile and the alien see Who yet would fain return to Thee. And save me, Lord, who seeks to raise To Thy dear love the hymn of praise! 4. With that saved thief my prayer I make, “Remember for Thy mercy’s sake!” With that poor publican I cry, “Be merciful, O God most high!” With that lost prodigal I fain Back to my home would turn again. 5. Mourn, mourn, my soul, with earnest care And raise to Christ the contrite prayer:— O Thou, who freely wast made poor My sorrows and my sins to cure, Me, poor of all good works, embrace, Enriching with Thy boundless grace! Joseph of the Studium, c. 860; J. M. Neale, tr., 1862. 421 8, 7, 8, 7 Alas, my God! my sins are great, My conscience doth upbraid me; And now I find that in my strait No man hath power to aid me. 2. And fled I hence in my despair In some lone spot to hide me, My griefs would still be with me there And peace still be denied me. 3. Lord, Thee I seek. I merit naught, Yet pity and restore me; Be not Thy wrath, just God, my lot; Thy Son hath suffered for me. 4. If pain and woe must follow sin, Then be my path still rougher. Here spare me not; if heaven I win, On earth I gladly suffer. 5. But curb my heart, forgive my guilt, Make Thou my patience firmer; For they must miss the good Thou wilt Who at Thy chastenings murmur. 6. Then deal with me as seems Thee best, Thy grace will help me bear it, If but at last I see Thy rest And with my Savior share it. M. Rutilius, 1604; C. Winkworth, tr., a. 422 S. M. And wilt Thou pardon, Lord, A sinner such as I, Although Thy book his crimes record Of such a crimson dye? 2. So deep are they engraved, So terrible their fear: The righteous scarcely shall be saved, And where shall I appear? 3. O Thou Physician blest, Make clean my guilty soul And me, by many a sin opprest, Restore and keep me whole.