What slavish fears molest my mind,

What slavish fears molest my mind,
And vex my sickly soul!
How is it, Lord, that thou art kind,
And yet I am not whole?

Ah! why should unbelief and pride,
With all their hellish train,
Still in my ransomed soul abide,
And give me all this pain?

Thy word is past, thy promise made;
With power it came from heaven;
"Cheer up, desponding soul," it said,
"Thy sins are all forgiven.

"Behold, I make thy cause my own;
I bought thee with my blood;
Thy wicked works on me be thrown,
And I will work thy good.

"I am thy God, thy Guide till death,
Thy everlasting Friend;
On me for love, for works, for faith,
On me for all depend."

Thy blood, dear Lord, has brought my peace,
And paid the heavy debt;
Has given a fair and full release,
But I'm in prison yet.

Unjustly now these foes of mine
Their devilish hate pursue;
They made my Surety pay the fine,
Yet plague the prisoner too.

What right can my tormentors plead,
That I should not be free?
Here's an amazing change indeed!
Justice is now for me.

Lord, break these bars that thus confine,
These chains that gall me so;
Say to that ugly gaoler, Sin,
"Loose him, and let him go."