S.M.

1 O THAT I could revere
My much-offended God!
O that I could but stand in fear
Of thy afflicting rod!
If mercy cannot draw,
Thou by thy threatenings move,
And keep an abject soul in awe,
That will not yield to love.

2 Show me the naked sword
Impending o'er my head;
O let me tremble at thy word,
And to my ways take heed!
With sacred horror fly
From every sinful snare;
Nor ever, in my Judge's eye,
My Judge's anger dare.

3 Thou great tremendous God;
The conscious awe impart;
The grace be now on me bestowed,
The tender, fleshly heart:
For Jesu's sake alone
The stony heart remove,
And melt at last, O melt me do -
Into the mould of love!


This document (last modified July 18, 1995) from the Christian Classics Ethereal Library server, at @Wheaton College