Not One of Adam's Race
Henry Fowler, 1779-1838
Not one of Adam’s race
But is by sin undone,
Deep sunk in foul disgrace,
And righteousness has none;
And this, when brought through grace to know,
Will sink the sinner very low.
He sinks in miry clay,
And scarce can lift a sigh,
He tries, but cannot pray,
Nor lift to heaven his eye;
His bosom heaves, with guilt oppressed,
But, in himself, can find no rest.
In this bewildered state,
Pursued by guilt and sin,
He pushes at the gate,
But cannot enter in;
Till Jesus opens wide the door,
And saves the helpless and the poor.
The prisoner now goes forth;
The lame man leaps with joy;
He feels the Saviour’s worth,
And lifts his name on high.
On Jesus’ head the crown he’ll place;
A sinner saved by sovereign grace.
