329. L. M. Steele. Sense of Sin.
1 Jesus demands this heart of mine,
Demands my love, my joy, my care,
But ah, how dead to things divine,
How cold my best affections are!
2 'Tis sin, alas! with dreadful power,
Divides my Saviour from my sight;
O, for one happy, shining hour
Of sacred freedom, sweet delight!
3 Come, gracious Lord; thy love can raise
My captive powers from sin and death,
And fill my heart and life with praise,
And tune my last, expiring breath.