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1. Though I should seek to wash me clean
In water of the driven snow,
My soul would yet its spot retain.
And sink in conscious guilt and woe.
2. The Spirit, in his pow'r divine.
Would cast my vaunting soul to earth.
Expose the foulness of its sin.
And show the vileness of its worth.
3. Ah, not like erring man is God
That men to answer him should dare ;
Condemned, and into silence awed,
They helpless stand before his bar.
4. There, must a Mediator plead,
Who, God and man, may both embrace;
With God, for man to intercede.
And offer man the purchase grace.
5. And lo! the Son of God is slain
To be this Mediator crown'd :
In Him, my soul, be cleansed from stain.
In Him thy righteousness be found!