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 though death be just, Make haste, Lord, to deliver. “Come, hungry, weary, naked soul For such I ne'er rejected; My righteousness sufficient is, Though 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.