What doth lie in the midst of mine heart?
Tis' the colour of hate,
The shade of pride.
This thing called sin fills my being.
LORD make this sin not my fate.
In ev'ry part o' me does it bide.
It is despised but weak I am in fleeing.
My mortal form doth tremble with fear.
I can do nothing to rid me of this hate,
This pride that drowns me so.
Hear my plea and catch my tears.
As pulling Peter from the wave
Do grasp mine hand that flaileth to and fro
Searching for Thy hand of strength.
Pull Thy servant from the depths
And into Thy one true Light.
As he that writ in prose to Thee,
Create in me a clean heart, O God.
Hold me in Thy love, Thy mercy, Thy might.
Make me Thine own, though I be not worthy.
Accept this humble prayer from me, mere dust.
For You, and You alone, are able and willing.