Lord, could I lift a filial eye
Before thy throne of grace,
And, Abba Father, humbly cry,
And see thy smiling face,
How would it raise my groveling mind
From all things here below!
I’ll gladly leave the world behind,
And to thine altar go.
By faith my soul would sweetly fly
On love’s celestial wings;
And look on all below the sky
As despicable things.
But, Lord, alas, for lack of faith
To call the Saviour mine;
I daily grovel here beneath
And feed on husks with swine.
O send thy sweet celestial Dove
To change my sluggish frame!
With faith divine, and sacred love
My languid soul inflame.
Poor, naked, blind, and lame, O Lord,
I lie beside the pool,
Waiting for thy almighty word,
That can pronounce me whole.
O look upon my wretched case,
And take the orphan in!
Give me within thy house a place,
And wash away my sin.
Thy Spirit of adoption, Lord,
I earnestly implore;
That I may know my soul’s restored,
And thy free grace adore.
Author unattributed. Published in The Gospel Magazine, January 1766.