Too Many, Lord, Abuse Thy Grace

Too many

Lord

ab­use Thy grace

In this li­cen­tious day;

And while they boast they see Thy face

They turn their own away.

Thy Book dis­plays a gra­cious light

That can the blind re­store;

But these are daz­zled by the sight

And blind­ed still the more.

The par­don

such pre­sume upon

They do not beg

but steal;

And when they plead it at Thy throne

Oh! where’s the Spir­it’s seal?

Was it for this

ye law­less tribe

The dear Re­deem­er bled?

Is this the grace the saints im­bibe

From Christ the liv­ing Head?

Ah

Lord

we know Thy chos­en few

Are fed with heav’n­ly fare;

But these

the wretch­ed husks they chew

Proclaim them what they are.

The li­ber­ty our hearts im­plore

Is not to live in sin;

But still to wait at wis­dom’s door

Till mer­cy calls us in.