Into Thine Hand, O God of Truth
In-to Thine hand, O God of truth,
My spi-rit I com-mit;
Thou hast re-deemed my soul from death,
And saved me from the pit.
The pas-sions of my hope and fear
Main-tained a doubt-ful strife,
While sor-row, pain, and sin con-spired
To take a-way my life.
My times are in Thy hand, I cried,
Though I draw near the dust;
Thou art the ref-uge where I hide,
The God in whom I trust.
O make Thy re-con-ci-led face
Up-on Thy ser-vant shine,
And save me for Thy mer-cy's sake,
For I'm en-tire-ly Thine.
'Twas in my haste, my spi-rit said,
I must des-pair and die,
I am cut off be-fore Thine eyes;
But Thou hast heard my cry.
Thy good-ness how di-vine-ly free!
How won-drous is Thy grace
To those that fear Thy maj-es-ty,
And trust Thy prom-is-es!
O love the Lord, all ye His saints,
And sing His prais-es loud;
He'll bend His ear to your com-plaints,
And re-com-pense the proud.