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Poem	A penitent pleading for pardon. Show pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive, Let a repenting rebel live: Are not thy mercies large and free? May not a sinner trust in thee? My crimes are great, but not surpass The power and glory of thy grace: Great God, thy nature hath no bound, So let thy pard'ning love be found. O wash my soul from every sin, And make my guilty conscience clean; Here on my heart the burden lies, And past offences pain my eyes. My lips with shame my sins confess Against thy law, against thy grace: Lord, should thy judgment grow severe, I am condemned, but thou art clear. Should sudden vengeance seize my breath, I must pronounce thee just in death; And if my soul were sent to hell, Thy righteous law approves it well. Yet save a trembling sinner, Lord, Whose hope, still hov'ring round thy word, Would light on some sweet promise there, Some sure support against despair.
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