O Lord, rebuke me not in wrath; Thy anger who can bear? ’Tis heaven to live beneath thy smiles; Thy frowns create despair. I’m but a mass of filthiness; I own my wretched case; O heal my loathsome, stinking wounds, And magnify thy grace. Ah! must I die with this sad plague? What! is thy pity gone? Lord, look, and heal my broken bones; O look on God the Son! On thee I’ll wait; in thee I’ll trust; For thou art still my God; Crush not my soul beneath thy hand, O take away thy rod. Lord, let not guilt thus plague my soul; I would be rid of sin. From head to foot I’m nought but wounds, But, ah! I’m worse within. Within, O what a hellish crew! Who knows what dwells within? How oft some darling lust creeps out, Some unsuspected sin! Lord Jesus, heal this malady, And set my broken bones; Let my petitions reach thy ears, Though only sighs and groans. Base as I am, yet, blessed Lord, I dare to make this plea: As Jesus died to save the lost, Perhaps he died for me.
