O Help My Unbelief
by Isaac Watts
How sad our state by nature is
Our sin, how deep it stains
And Satan binds our captive minds
Fast in his slavish chains
But there's a voice of sovereign grace
Sounds from the sacred word:
"O ye despairing sinners come,
And trust upon the Lord"
My soul obeys the almighty call
And runs to this relief
I would believe thy promise, Lord,
O help my unbelief
To the dear fountain of thy blood
Incarnate God, I fly
Here let me wash my spotted soul,
From crimes of deepest dye
Stretch out thine arm, victorious King
My reigning sins subdue
Drive the old dragon from his seat
With all his hellish crew
A guilty weak and helpless worm
On thy kind arms I fall
Be thou my strength and righteousness
My Jesus and my all
