310    C.M.     J. Hart
“Create in me a clean heart.” Ps. 51. 10; Mark 7. 21

1 Lord, when thy Spirit descends to show
  The badness of our hearts,
  Astonished at the amazing view,
  The soul with horror starts.

2 [The dungeon, opening foul as hell,
  Its loathsome stench emits;
  And, brooding in each secret cell,
  Some hideous monster sits.]

3 [Swarms of ill thoughts their bane diffuse,
  Proud, envious, false, unclean;
  And every ransacked corner shows
  Some unsuspected sin.]

4 Our staggering faith gives way to doubt;
  Our courage yields to fear;
  Shocked at the sight, we straight cry out,
  “Can ever God dwell here?”

5 None less than God’s Almighty Son
  Can move such loads of sin;
  The water from his side must run,
  To wash this dungeon clean.

6 O come, thou much-expected Guest!
  Lord Jesus, quickly come!
  Enter the chamber of my breast;
  Thyself prepare the room.

7 For should’st thou stay till thou canst meet
  Reception worthy thee,
  With sinners thou would’st never sit –
  At least I’m sure with me.

8 When, when will that blest time arrive,
  When thou wilt kindly deign
  With me to sit, to lodge, to live;
  And never part again?