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,

O, 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 heav’nly 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.