What shall the dy­ing sin­ner do
That seeks re­lief for all his woe?
Where shall the guil­ty con­sci­ence find
Ease for the tor­ment of the mind?

How shall we get our crimes for­giv’n?
Or form our na­tures fit for Heav’n?
Can souls all o’er de­filed with sin
Make their own pow­ers and pas­sions clean?

In vain we search, in vain we try,
Till Je­sus brings His Gos­pel nigh;
’Tis there such pow­er and glo­ry dwell
As save re­bel­li­ous souls from hell.

This is the pil­lar of our hope
That bears our faint­ing spir­its up:
We read the grace, we trust the Word,
And find sal­va­tion in the Lord.

Let men or an­gels dig the mines,
Where na­ture’s gold­en trea­sure shines;
Brought near the doc­trine of the cross,
All na­ture’s gold ap­pears but dross.

Should vile blas­phem­ers with dis­dain
Pronounce the truths of Je­sus vain,
I’ll meet the scan­dal and the shame,
And sing and tri­umph in His name.