Lord, when thy Spirit descends to show

Lord, when thy Spirit descends to show
The badness of our hearts,
Astonished at the amazing view,
The soul with horror starts.

The dungeon, opening foul as hell,
Its loathsome stench emits;
And, brooding in each secret cell,
Some hideous monster sits.

Swarms of ill thoughts their bane diffuse,
Proud, envious, false, unclean;
And every ransacked corner shows
Some unsuspected sin.

Our staggering faith gives way to doubt;
Our courage yields to fear;
Shocked at the sight, we straight cry out,
"Can ever God dwell here?"

None less than God's Almighty Son
Can move such loads of sin;
The water from his side must run,
To wash this dungeon clean.

O come, thou much-expected Guest!
Lord Jesus, quickly come!
Enter the chamber of my breast;
Thyself prepare the room.

For should'st thou stay till thou canst meet
Reception worthy thee,
With sinners thou would'st never sit -
At least I'm sure with me.

When, when will that blest time arrive,
When thou wilt kindly deign
With me to sit, to lodge, to live;
And never part again?