I strove against Thee, Lord, I know,
I spurn'd Thy grace, I broke Thy law:
Yet let not, Lord, my day go by;
Oh leave me not alone to die.
O pleasures past, what are ye now
But thorns about my bleeding brow!
Spectres that hover round my brain,
And aggravate and mock my pain.
Yet, to my Savior Christ I'll cling,
I'll crowd beneath His shelt'ring wing;
I'll clasp the cross, and holding there,
E'en me, Oh bliss! His wrath may spare.
Contrition's humble cry,
Whose hand, indulgent, wipes the tears
From sorrow's weeping eye:
See, low before Thy throne of grace,
A wretched sinner mourn.
Thyself hast bid me seek Thy face;
Thyself hast said, Return.
And shall my guilty fears prevail
To drive me from Thy feet?
Thy word of promise cannot fail,
My tower of safe retreat.
Oh! shine on this benighted heart,
In beams of mercy shine;
And let Thy Spirit's power impart
The gifts of grace divine.
ALMIGHTY GOD, the pure and just,
How shall we dare approach Thy throne,
When, humbly prostrate in the dust,
Our guilt with trembling lips we own!
Thy sons by grace, to Thee baptis'd,
And blest with Thy all watchful care,
How have our souls Thy love despis'd!
How mock'd Thee with an heartless prayer!
But Thou hast bid us turn and live,
And stay'd Thy wrath with long delay;
And wilt Thou with the sinner strive,
Yet turn the penitent away?
O Lamb of God, for sinners slain,
Renew our hearts, our sins forgive:
So, cleans'd from all unholy stain,
Our grateful souls to Thee shall live.
COME, let us to the Lord our God,
With contrite hearts return;
Our God is gracious, nor will leave
The desolate to mourn.
Long has the night of sorrow reign'd,
The dawn shall bring us light;
God shall appear, and we shall rise
With gladness in His sight.
Our hearts, if God we seek to know,
Shall know Him and rejoice,
His coming, like the morn shall be,
Like morning songs His voice.
So shall His presence bless our souls,
And shed a joyful light,
That hallow'd morn shall chase away
The sorrows of the night.
CANST Thou, O Lord, forgive so soon A soul that sinn'd so long?
And canst Thou deign to bear with one That loads Thee still with wrong?
Canst Thou invite me to repent,
And call me to return?
And will Thine anger, Lord, relent,
And bid me cease to mourn?
It is no merit of mine own,
But blood of Him that died,
Our elder Brother, and Thy Son,
Whom my sins crucified.
For every drop of crimson dye
Thus shed to make me live,
O wherefore, wherefore have not I
A thousand souls to give?
ROCK of ages! cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the Water and the Blood,
From Thy riven Side which flow'd,
Be of sin the double cure,
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.
Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy Cross I cling.
Could my tears for ever flow,
Could my
zeal no languor know,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.
While I draw this fleeting breath,
When mine eyelids close in death,
When I rise to worlds unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgment throne,
Rock of ages! cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.
THERE is a fountain fill'd with blood
Drawn from Emmanuel's veins ;
And sinners plung'd beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
The dying thief rejoic'd to see
That fountain in his day;
And there may sinners, vile as he,
Wash all their sins away.
Thou dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till all who truly seek their God
Be saved to sin no more.
Since, therefore, still descends the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love is now our theme,
And shall be till we die.
The Sunday before Easter.
O LORD, thro' all Thy earthly years
A man of sorrows and of tears,
The Cross, where all our sins were laid,
Upon Thy bending shoulders weigh'd,
And death, that sets the pris'ner free,
Was pang, and scoff, and scorn to Thee.
O wondrous Lord! my soul would be Still more and more confirm'd to Thee, Would lose the pride, the taint of sin, That burns these fever'd veins within, And learn of Thee, the lowly One, And like Thee, all my journey run.
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