Hymn
God ready to forgive; or, Despair sinful
Words: Stogdon, Hubert, 1692-1728
What mean these jealousies and fears, As if the Lord were loth to save, Or lov'd to see us drench'd in tears, Or sink with sorrow to the grave?
Does he want slaves to grace his throne? Or crush them with an iron rod? Loves he the deep despairing groan? Is he a tyrant, or a God.
Not all the sins which we have wrought So much his tender bowels grieve, As this unkind injurious thought, That he's unwilling to forgive.
What tho' our crimes are black as night, Or glowing like the crimson morn, Immanuel's blood will make them white As snow thro' the pure aether borne.
Lord, 'tis amazing grace we won, And well may rebel-worms surprise, But was not thy incarnate son A most amazing sacrifice?
"I've found a ransom," saith the lord, "No humble penitent shall die;" Lord, we would now believe thy word, And thy unbounded mercies try!
Public domain · as printed in A Selection of Hymns: from the best authors, intended to be an appendix to Dr. Watt's psalms and hymns. (1st Am. ed.), 1792 · text courtesy of Hymnary.org. Wording may differ slightly from your hymn book.