Luke 5: A Leprous soul that feels

A Leprous soul that feels
The loathsomeness of sin,
To Christ his case reveals,
And longs to be made clean.
His humble faith to Christ applies,
And little speaks, but much it sighs.

O'erwhelm'd beneath the load
Of his impurity,
A long-offended God
Ashamed he is to see,
Low in the dust he hides his face.
And conscious of his vileness, prays.

My universal sin,
Lord, I to Thee confess,
Corrupt without, within.
Full of a sore disease.
Of bruises, wounds, and putrid sores.
My spirit at Thy feet adores.

Of grace I never will,
But of myself despair;
Able Thou art to heal,
Thou hear'st a sinner's prayer;
My faith is strong, my hope is sure
A touch of Thine can make me pure.