Unclean Lips, Impure Heart

My lips are foul, my heart impure;
I'm a vile failure, utterly;
All my past hopes no more endure;
Lord, hast Thou yet some grace for me?
In holiness, self's active yet;
When humble, I on self rely;
E'en the remorseful tears I shed,
These, too, Thy cleansing blood require.
In best intentions, self remains;
In highest sacrifice, self's aims;
My heart is my own enemy;
Lord, may my hope yet in Thee stay?
In serving God, opinions lurk;
In loving man, self-interest hides.
I dare not stop, nor can I work;
Everywhere, in all, self abides.
The old creation's hard to shed;
If I but move, there self is mired.
Oh, that Thy glory Thou wouldst send,
My heart to flood and bless entire.
Naught dare I ask, nor aught avow;
Naught can I do but gaze on Thee.
Might Thou Thy precious Word bestow,
Glory divine reveal to me?