O God, Thy right­eous­ness we own;
Judgment is at Thy house be­gun!
With hum­ble awe Thy rod we hear,
And guil­ty in Thy sight ap­pear;
We can­not in Thy judg­ment stand,
But sink be­neath Thy migh­ty hand.

Our mouth as in the dust we lay,
And still for mer­cy, mer­cy pray;
Unworthy to be­hold Thy face,
Unfaithful stew­ards of Thy grace,
Our sin and wick­ed­ness we own,
And deep­ly for ac­cept­ance groan.

We have not, Lord, Thy gifts im­proved,
But base­ly from Thy sta­tutes roved,
And done Thy lov­ing Spir­it spite,
And sinned against the clear­est light,
Brought back Thy ago­niz­ing pain,
And nailed Thee to Thy cross again.

Yet do not drive us from Thy face,
A stiff-necked and hard-heart­ed race;
But oh! in ten­der mer­cy break
The ir­on si­new in our neck;
The soft­en­ing pow­er of love im­part,
And melt the mar­ble of our heart.