Unclean Lips, Impure Heart
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My lips are foul, my heart impure; I’m a vile failure, utterly; All my past hopes no more endure; Lord, hast Thou yet some grace for me? |
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In holiness, self’s active yet; When humble, I on self rely; E’en the remorseful tears I shed, These, too, Thy cleansing blood require. |
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In best intentions, self remains; In highest sacrifice, self’s aims; My heart is my own enemy; Lord, may my hope yet in Thee stay? |
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In serving God, opinions lurk; In loving man, self-interest hides. I dare not stop, nor can I work; Everywhere, in all, self abides. |
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The old creation’s hard to shed; If I but move, there self is mired. Oh, that Thy glory Thou wouldst send, My heart to flood and bless entire. |
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Naught dare I ask, nor aught avow; Naught can I do but gaze on Thee. Might Thou Thy precious Word bestow, Glory divine reveal to me? |
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