Thou Son of God, Whose flaming eyes Our inmost thoughts perceive, Accept the grateful sacrifice Which now to Thee we give. We bow before Thy gracious throne, And think ourselves sincere; But show us, Lord, is everyone Thy real worshiper? Is here a soul who knows Thee not, Nor feels his need of Thee; A stranger to the blood which bought His pardon on the tree? Convince him now of unbelief, His desperate state explain; And his fill his heart with sacred grief, And penitential pain. Speak with that voice that wakes the dead, And bid the sleeper rise, And bid his guilty conscience dread The death that never dies. Extort the cry, ?What must be done To save a wretch like me? How shall a trembling sinner shun That endless misery? ?I must this instant now begin, Out of my sleep to wake, And turn to God, and every sin Continually forsake. ?I must for faith incessant cry, And wrestle, Lord, with Thee; I must be born again, or die To all eternity.?