Text: | Sufficiency of Pardon |
Author: | Watts |
1 Why does your face, ye humble souls,
Those mournful colours wear?
What doubts are these that try your faith,
And nourish your despair?
2 [What though your numerous sins exceed
The stars that fill the skies,
And, aiming at the eternal throne,
Like pointed mountains rise?]
3 [What though your mighty guilt beyond
The wide creation swell,
And has its cursed foundations laid
Low as the deeps of hell?]
4 See, here an endless ocean flows
Of never-failing grace;
Behold, a dying Saviour’s veins
The sacred flood increase!
5 It rises high, and drowns the hills;
Has neither shore nor bound;
Now if we search to find our sins,
Our sins can ne’er be found.
6 Awake, our hearts, adore the grace
That buries all our faults;
And pardoning blood that swells above
Our follies and our thoughts.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Why does your face, ye humble souls |
Title: | Sufficiency of Pardon |
Author: | Watts |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1844 |
Topic: | Salvation and Free Grace |