On the Death of Thomas Beard, Hymn 19

O God, was ever heart like mine!
So sick of every sore disease,
So false, so contrary to Thine,
So full of desperate wickedness!

So weak, so impotent, so blind,
So earthly, sensual, devilish all!
What words of horror can I find
To picture out my total fall?

My total fall I never knew,
Till I had tasted of Thy grace,
Thy Spirit then the veil withdrew,
And show'd the inbred monster's face.

The Man of Sin, the mystery
Of wickedness, Thou hast reveal'd,
(Sure pledge of good!) my plague I see;
My plague I know, shall all be heal'd!

A perfect soundness faith shall give,
A perfect holiness below;
Jesu, I in Thy blood believe,
Thy blood shall wash me white as snow.

The loss I by the first sustain
The Second Adam shall repair:
I shall the life of God regain,
The image of the Heavenly bear.

Let others from themselves remove,
And chase salvation far away;
But Thou canst perfect me in love,
Canst perfect me in love to-day.

Let others madly hug their chains,
Their idol of inbeing sin;
I cannot plead for sin's remains,
When Thou hast said, Ye shall be clean.

If Thou hast power and will to save,
Saved to the utmost I shall be,
The fulness of the Godhead have;
For all the Godhead is in Thee.