Sinners, in their deep affliction,

Sinners, in their deep affliction,
Sigh and groan beneath their load;
Long to read their own election,
And with pleasure say, "My God!"
Trembling, fearing,
Hoping still in Jesus' blood.

Blessèd are the souls who tremble
At Jehovah's searching word;
Contrite hearts cannot dissemble;
God has slain them with his sword;
Doubting, fearing,
Still their hope is in the Lord.

Mourning saint, whose heart is broken,
Love shall wipe thy weeping eye;
Ask thy Saviour for this token;
All thy needs he will supply;
Fear not, mourner;
Christ will make you reap in joy.