The Death of Sin

O Sin, thou miserable wretch!

Befouling those thy snare doth catch

And sparing neither man nor child

But wounding, wrecking, running wild,

Leaving all thou touch defiled,

Thou art like unto a canker—

Rotting, ruinous, and sore—

Or like an ill-intentioned stranger

Lurking ‘round an unlocked door

To ravage, thieve, ensnare, and kill,

Enslaving all flesh to your will.

O Sin, thou hast made a vile lair—

Both heart and home are unaware—

And from within thou bringest strife,

Destroying, marring, tainting life!

Sundering as with a knife

Ev’ry sweet familial bond,

Severing love’s golden thread

’Til all that’s good and pure is gone

And all that once was fair is dead.

This thou seekest and desire:

To raze all innocence with fire.

O Sin, thou art a fearsome foe!

Thou deal a hard and brutal blow,

Yet thy weapons cannot stand;

Thy strength bends ‘neath a mightier hand,

Fell schemes dissolve at His command

And to the sinner’s good they turn

As chisels ‘gainst a heart of stone;

The dross alone they serve to burn

For God is sovereign on His throne

And His grace from founts doth run—

Take comfort, O afflicted one!

O Sin, thy death is surely wrought!

The battle was already fought;

The cross is where thou breathed thy last,

’Tis where my God hath nailed thou fast

And into the abyss did cast

Thy loathsome and tormented soul,

Ne’er again to harm or spoil;

In Christ the broken are made whole,

In Him the weak no longer toil

For Sin hath lost its mortal sting

And all the earth doth joyful ring

With the saints’ exuberant song

For the One who set them free

When He died on Calvary!