When With My Mind Divinely Pressed


When with my mind devoutly press’d,
Dear Saviour, my revolving breast
Would past offences trace;
Trembling I make the black review,
Yet pleas’d behold, admiring too,
The pow’r of changing grace.

This tongue with blasphemies defil’d,
These feet to erring paths beguil’d,
In heav’nly league agree.
Who would believe such lips could praise,
Or think from dark and winding ways,
I e’er should turn to thee?

These eyes that once abus’d the light,
Now lift to thee their wat’ry sight,
And weep a silent flood;
These hands are rais’d in ceaseless pray’r,
Oh wash away the stains they wear,
In pure redeeming blood.

These ears that once could entertain
The midnight oath, the lustful strain,
Around the festive board;
Now deaf to all th’ enchanting noise,
Avoid the throng, detest the joys,
And long to hear thy word.

Thus art thou serv’d in ev’ry part,
Go on, bless’d Lord to cleanse my heart,
That drossy thing refine;
That grace may nature’s pow’rs control,
And a new creature, body, soul,
Be all and wholly thine!