My heart, how dreadful hard it is!
by Isaac Watts·1707·Meter 8.6.8.6 (CM)
1
My heart, how dreadful hard it is!
How heavy here it lies!
Heavy and cold within my breast,
Just like a rock of ice!
2
Sin, like a raging tyrant, sits
Upon this flinty throne,
And every grace lies buried deep
Beneath this heart of stone.
3
How seldom do I rise to God,
Or taste the joys above!
This mountain presses down my faith,
And chills my flaming love.
4
When smiling mercy courts my Soul
With all its heav'nly charms,
This stubborn, this relentless thing
Would thrust it from my arms.
5
Against the thunders of thy word
Rebellious I have stood;
My heart, it shakes not at the wrath
And terrors of a God.
6
Dear Savior, steep this rock of mine
In thine own crimson sea!
None but a bath of blood divine
Can melt the flint away.