My soul is beset

With grief and dismay,

I owe a vast debt

And nothing can pay:

I must go to prison,

Unless that dear Lord,

Who died and is risen,

His pity afford.

The death that he died,

The blood that he spilt,

To sinners applied,

Discharge from all guilt:

This great Intercessor

Can give, if he please,

The vilest transgressor

Immediate release.

When nailed to the tree,

He answered the prayer

Of one, who like me,

Was nigh to despair;

He did not upbraid him

With all he had done,

But instantly made him,

A saint and a son.

The jailor, I read,

A pardon received;

And how was he freed?

He only believed:

His case mine resembled,

Like me he was foul,

Like me too he trembled,

Rut faith made him whole.

Though Saul in his youth,

To madness enraged,

Against the Lord’s truth,

And people, engaged;

Yet Jesus, the Savior,

Whom long he reviled;

Received him to favor

And made him a child.

A foe to all good,

In wickedness skilled,

Manasseh, with blood,

Jerusalem filled;

In evil long hardened,

The LORD he defied,

Yet he too was pardoned,

When mercy he cried.

Of sinners the chief,

And viler than all,

The jailor or thief,

Manasseh or Saul:

322 Since they were forgiven

Why should I despair,

While CHRIST is in heaven,

And still answers prayer?