O Help My Unbelief

1. How sad our state by nature is! 


Our sin, how deep it stains!


And Satan binds our captive minds 


Fast in his slavish chains


But there's a voice of sov'reign grace, 


Sounds from the sacred word:


"O, ye despairing sinners come, 


And trust upon the Lord."



 

2. My soul obeys th' almighty call, 


And runs to this relief


I would believe thy promise, Lord; 


O help my unbelief!


To the dear fountain of thy blood, 


Incarnate God, I fly;


Here let me wash my spotted soul, 


From crimes of deepest dye.



 

3. Stretch out Thine arm, victorious King, 


My reigning sins subdue;


Drive the old dragon from his seat, 


With all his hellish crew.


A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,


On thy kind arms I fall;


Be thou my strength and righteousness, 


My Jesus, and my all.

 

But there's a voice of sov'reign grace, 


Sounds from the sacred word:


"O, ye despairing sinners come, 


And trust upon the Lord."



 

© 2007 Justin Smith Music.
Used by permission. All rights reserved.

THIS IS MY PRAYER AND MY SONG