Hymns for a Protestant, 3

O Thou who seest what is in man.
And show'st myself to me.
Suffer a sinner to complain
And groan his griefs to Thee.

A sinner that has cloak'd his shame
With self-deceiving art.
Thy worshipper refonii'd in name
But unrenew'd in heart.

The servants most unlike their Lord,
How oft did I condemn;
The persecuting church abhorr'd,
Nor saw myself in them.

The spirit of my foes I caught,
The angry bitter zeal,
And fierce for my own party fought,
And breath'd the fire of hell.

Threatening I did and slaughter breathe,
(The flail of heresy,)
And doom the sects to bonds or death,
That did not think with me.

To propagate the truth I fought
With fury and despite,
And in my zeal for Is?'act sought
To slay the Giheonite.

"The temple of the Lord are we!"
And all who dared deny,
I would not have their conscience free,
But force them to comply.

With wholesome discipline severe
To conquer them I strove.
And drive into the pale through fear.
Who would not come through love.

How vainly then the zealots blind
Of Rome did I disdain!
Still to the church of Satan join'd,
And differing but in name.

How could I, Lord, myself deceive,
While unreform'd within;
Protest against their creed, and cleave
The closer to their sin?

Their foulest sin my own I made,
(And humbly now confess,)
While by my anger I essay'd
To work Thy righteousness.

A murderer convict I come
My vileness to bewail,
By nature born a son of Rome,
A child of wrath and hell.

Lord, I at last recant, reject,
Through Thy great strength alone,
The madness of the Romish sect,
The madness of my own.

Lord, I abhor, renounce, abjure
The fiery spirit unclean.
The persecuting zeal impure,
The sin-opposing sin.

Let others draw with fierce despite
The' eradicating sword,
And with the devil's weapons fight
The battles of the Lord:

But oh! my gracious God to me
A better spirit impart.
The gentle mind that was in Thee,
The meekly loving heart:

The heart whose charity o'erflows
To all, far off, and near.
True charity to friends and foes
Impartially sincere.

Heathens xv Jews, and Turks may I
"And heretics embrace.
Nor even to Rome the love deny
I bear to all the race.