Too
many,
Lord,
abuse
Thy
grace,
In
this
licentious
day;
And
while
they
boast
they
see
Thy
face,
They
turn
their
own
away.
Thy
Book
displays
a
gracious
light
That
can
the
blind
restore;
But
these
are
dazzled
by
the
sight,
And
blinded
still
the
more.
The
pardon,
such
presume
upon,
They
do
not
beg,
but
steal;
And
when
they
plead
it
at
Thy
throne,
Oh!
where�s
the
Spirit�s
seal?
Was
it
for
this,
ye
lawless
tribe,
The
dear
Redeemer
bled?
Is
this
the
grace
the
saints
imbibe
From
Christ
the
living
Head?
Ah,
Lord,
we
know
Thy
chosen
few
Are
fed
with
heavenly
fare;
But
these,
the
wretched
husks
they
chew
Proclaim
them
what
they
are.
The
liberty
our
hearts
implore
Is
not
to
live
in
sin;
But
still
to
wait
at
wisdom�s
door,
Till
mercy
calls
us
in.