What a vile, deceitful heart,

What a vile, deceitful heart,
Filled with sin in every part;
But for free and sovereign grace,
Hell had been my destined place.

Called by grace these many years,
Rescued from ten thousand fears;
Yet a flagrant rebel still,
Tossed about with every ill.

Thus I'm burdened, thus I groan,
And my sad condition moan;
Can a sinner thus beguiled
Be the Lord's adopted child?

Lord, how rich and free thy grace
To appoint a resting-place;
While within, and all around,
Comforts fail, and sins abound.