Lord, I am vile, con­ceived in sin,
And born un­ho­ly and un­clean;
Sprung from the man whose guil­ty fall
Corrupts the race, and taints us all.

Soon as we draw our in­fant breath,
The seeds of sin grow up for death;
Thy law de­mands a per­fect heart,
But we’re de­filed in ev­ery part.

Great God, cre­ate my heart anew,
And form my spi­rit pure and true;
O make me wise be­times to spy
My dan­ger and my re­me­dy.

Behold, I fall be­fore Thy face;
My on­ly re­fuge is Thy grace;
No out­ward forms can make me clean;
The le­pro­sy lies deep with­in.

No bleed­ing bird, nor bleed­ing beast,
Nor hys­sop branch, nor sprink­ling priest,
Nor run­ning brook, nor flood, nor sea,
Can wash the dis­mal stain away.

Jesus, my God, Thy blood alone
Hath pow­er suf­fi­cient to atone;
Thy blood can make me white as snow;
No Jew­ish types could cleanse me so.

While guilt dis­turbs and breaks my peace,
Nor flesh nor soul hath rest or ease;
Lord, let me hear Thy par­don­ing voice,
And make my brok­en bones re­joice.