I am a stranger here below,
And what I am 'tis hard to know;
I am so vile, so full of sin,
I fear that I'm not born again.

When I experience call to mind,
My understanding is so blind,
All feeling sense seems to be gone,
Which makes me fear that I am wrong.

I find myself out of the way,
My tho'ts are often gone astray;
Like one alone I seem to be;
Oh! is there anyone like me?

It's seldom I can ever see
Myself as I would wish to be:
What I desire, I can't attain;
From what I hate, I can't refrain.

My nature is so prone to sin,
Which makes my duty so unclean,
That when I count up all the cost,
Without free grace I know I'm lost.