Oh, how I hate those lusts of mine
That crucified my God!
Those sins that pierced and nail’d his flesh
Fast to the fatal wood!
Yes, my Redeemer, they shall die,
My heart has so decreed; Nor will I spare the guilty things
That made my Saviour bleed.
Whilst, with a melting, broken heart,
My murder’d Lord I view,
I’ll raise revenge against my sins,
And slay the murd’rers too.
Isaac Watts