Poor mourning soul! in deep distress,
Just wakened from a slumber,
Who wanders in sin’s wilderness,
One of the condemned number;
The thunder roars from Sinai’s mount
Fills him with awful terror,
And he like naught in God’s account,
All drowned with grief and sorrow.

Oh, woe is me that I was born!
Or after death have being!
Fain would I be some earthly worm,
Which has no future being:
Or had I died when I was young,
Oh, what would I have given!
Then might with babes my little tongue,
Been praising God in heaven.

But now may I lament my case,
Just worn away by trouble,
From day to day I look for peace,
But find my sorrows double:
Cries Satan, “Desp’rate is your state,
Time’s been, you might repented,
But now you see it is too late,
So make yourself contented.”

How can I live! how can I rest!
Under this sore temptation:
Fearing the day of grace is past,
Lord, hear my lamentation!
For I am weary of my life,
My groans and bitter crying,
My wants are great, my mind’s in strife,
My spirit’s almost dying.

Without relief I soon shall die,
No hope of getting better,
Show pity Lord, and hear the cry
Of a distressed sinner;
For I am resolved here to trust,
At Thy footstool for favor,
Pleading for life tho death be just,
Make haste, Lord, to deliver.

“Come, hungry, weary, naked soul
For such I ne’er rejected;
My righteousness sufficient is,
Tho you have long neglected:
Come, weary souls, for right you have,
I am such soul’s protector
My honor is engaged to save
All under this character.”

“I come to seek, I come to save,
I come to make atonement,
I lived, I died, laid in the grave,
To save you from the judgement;”
By faith my glor’ous Lord I see,
O how He doth amaze me!
To see Him bleeding on the tree,
From hell and death to raise me.

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