Contrite Cries
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568 Depth of Mercy 1 DEPTH of mercy, can there be Mercy still reserved for me? Can my God His wrath forbear? Me, the chief of sinners, spare? I have long withstood His grace, Long provoked Him to His face; Would not hearken to His calls: Grieved Him by a thousand falls.
2 Kindled His relentings are; Me He still delights to spare; Cries, "How shall I give thee up?" Lets the lifted thunder drop. There for me the Saviour stands; Shows His wounds and spreads His hands, God is love, I know, I feel Jesus pleads. and loves me still.
3 Jesus, answer from above: Is not all Thy nature love? Wilt Thou not the wrong forget? Suffer me to kiss Thy feet? If I rightly read Thy heart, If Thou all compassion art, Bow Thine ear, in mercy bow; Pardon and accept me now.
4 Pity from Thine eye let fall; By a look my soul recall; Now the stone to flesh convert, Cast a look, and break my heart. Now incline me to repent; Let me now my fall lament: Now my foul revolt deplore; Weep, believe, and sin no more. Charles Wesley, 1740. |
569 The Long-suffering of God 1 LORD, and am I yet alive, Not in torments, not in hell! Still doth Thy good Spirit strive— With the chief of sinners dwell? Tell it unto sinners, tell, I am, I am out of hell!
2 Yes, I still lift up mine eyes, Will not of Thy love despair; Still in spite of sin I rise, Still I bow to Thee in prayer. Tell it, &c.
3 Oh the length and breadth of love! Jesus, Saviour, can it be? All Thy mercy's height I prove, All the depth is seen in me. Tell it. &c.
4 See a bush that burns with fire, Unconsumed amidst the flame! Turn aside the sight to admire, I the living wonder am. Tell it, &c.
5 See a stone that hangs in air! See a spark in ocean live! Kept alive with death so near! I to God the glory give. Ever tell—to sinners tell, I am, I am out of hell. Charles Wesley, 1743. |
570 Confessing and Pleading 1 BY Thy victorious hand struck down, Here, prostrate, Lord, I lie: And faint to see my Maker frown, Whom once I dared defy.
2 With heart unshaken I have heard Thy dreadful thunders roar: When grace in all its charms appear'd, I only sinn'd the more.
3 With impious hands from off Thy head I've sought to pluck the crown; And insolently dared to tread Thy royal honour down.
4 Confounded, Lord, I wrap my face, And hang my guilty head; Ashamed of all my wicked ways, The hateful life I've led.
5 I yield—by mighty love subdued; Who can resist its charms? And throw myself, by wrath pursued, Into my Saviours arms.
6 My wanderings, Lord, are at an end, I'm now return'd to Thee: Be Thou my Father and my Friend, Be all in all to me. Compiled from Simon Browne, 1720. |
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571 1 AH! whither should I go, Burden'd, and sick, and faint? To whom should I my troubles show, And pour out my complaint?
2 My Saviour bids me come: Ah I why do I delay? He calls the weary sinner home! And yet from Him I stay.
3 What is it keeps me back, From which I cannot part, Which will not let my Saviour take Possession of my heart?
4 Jesus, the hindrance show, Which I have fear'd to see: Yet let me now consent to know What keeps me out from Thee.
5 Searcher of hearts, in mine Thy trying power display; Into its darkest corners shine, And take the veil away. Charles Wesley, 1741 |
572 Prayer for Repentance. 1 OH! that I could repent, With all my idols part, And to Thy gracious eyes present A humble, contrite heart.
2 A heart with grief oppress'd, For having grieved my God, A troubled heart that cannot rest, Till sprinkled with Thy blood.
3 Jesus on me bestow The penitent desire; With true sincerity of woe My aching breast inspire.
4 With softening pity look, And melt my hardness down; Strike with Thy love's resistless stroke. And break this heart of stone! Charles Wesley, 1749. |
573 The Stony Heart 1 OH! for a glance of heavenly day, To take this stubborn stone away; And thaw with beams of love divine This heart, this frozen heart of mine.
2 The rocks can rend; the earth can quake; The seas can roar; the mountains shake: Of feeling all things show some sign, But this unfeeling heart of mine.
3 To hear the sorrows Thou hast felt, Dear Lord, an adamant would melt: But I can read each moving line, And nothing move this heart of mine.
4 Thy judgments, too, unmoved I hear, Amazing thought! which devils fear: Goodness and wrath in vain combine To stir this stupid heart of mine.
5 But something yet can do the deed, And that dear something much I need; Thy Spirit can from dross refine, And move and melt this heart of mine. Joseph Hart, 1762. |
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574 I need Thee, Jesus 1 I NEED Thee, precious Jesus! For I am full of sin; My soul is dark and guilty, My heart is dead within; I need the cleansing fountain, Where I can always flee, The blood of Christ most precious, The sinner's perfect plea.
2 I need Thee, blessed Jesus! For I am very poor; A stranger and a pilgrim, I have no earthly store; I need the love of Jesus To cheer me on my way, To guide my doubting footsteps, To be my strength and stay.
3 I need Thee, blessed Jesus! I need a friend like Thee; A friend to soothe my sorrows, A friend to care for me. I need the heart of Jesus To feel each anxious care, To tell my every want to, And all my sorrows share.
4 I need Thee, blessed Jesus! And hope to see Thee soon, Encircled with the rainbow, And seated on Thy throne: There, with Thy blood-bought children, My joy shall ever be, To sing Thy praise, Lord Jesus, To gaze, my Lord, on Thee. Frederick Whitfield, 1861. |
575 The Rebel's Surrender 1 LORD, Thou hast won, at length I yield; My heart, by mighty grace compell'd, Surrenders all to Thee; Against Thy terrors long I strove, But who can stand against Thy love? Love conquers even me.
2 If Thou hadst bid Thy thunders roll And lightnings flash, to blast my soul, I still had stubborn been: But mercy has my heart subdued, A bleeding Saviour I have view'd, And now I hate my sin.
3 Now, Lord, I would be Thine alone, Come, take possession of Thine own, For Thou hast set me free; Released from Satan's hard command, See all my members waiting stand, To be employ'd by Thee. John Newton, 1779. |
576 Invitation accepted 1 AM I call'd? and can it be! Has my Saviour chosen me? Guilty, wretched as I am. Has He named my worthless name? Vilest of the vile am I, Dare I raise my hopes so high?
2 Am I call'd? I dare not stay, May not, must not disobey; Here I lay me at Thy feet, Clinging to the mercy-seat: Thine I am, and Thine alone; Lord, with me Thy will be done.
3 Am I call'd? what shall I bring, As an offering to my King? Poor, and blind, and naked I, Trembling at Thy footstool lie; Nought but sin I call my own, Nor for sin can sin atone.
4 Am I call'd? an heir of God! Wash'd, redeem'd, by precious blood! Father, lead me in Thy hand, Guide me to that better land Where my soul shall be at rest, Pillow'd on my Saviour's breast. Mrs. J. L. Gray, 1843. |
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577 1 O LORD, my God, in mercy turn, In mercy hear a sinner mourn! To Thee I call, to Thee I cry, Oh leave me, leave me not to die!
2 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!
3 For pleasure I have given my soul; Now justice, let Thy thunders roll! Now vengeance smite, and with a blow Lay the rebellious ingrate low!
4 Yet Jesus, Jesus! there I'll cling, I'll crowd beneath His sheltering wing; I'll clasp the cross, and holding there, Even me, oh bliss! His wrath may spare Henry Kirke White, 1807 |
578
2 Oh let not justice frown me hence; Stay, stay, the vengeful storm: Forbid it that Omnipotence Should crush a feeble worm!
3 If tears of sorrow would suffice To pay the debt I owe, Tears should from both my weeping eyes In ceaseless torrents flow.
4 But no such sacrifice I plead To expiate my guilt; No tears but those which Thou hast shed! No blood, but Thou hast spilt.
6 Think of Thy sorrows, dearest Lord, And all my sins forgive: Justice will well approve the word That bids the sinner lire. Samuel Stennett, 1787. |
579 How sad on Thee they fall, Seen through Thy gentle patience, I tenfold feel them all.
2 I know they are forgiven, But still their pain to me Is all the grief and anguish They laid, my Lord, on Thee.
3 My sins, my sins, my Saviour! Their guilt I never knew Till, with Thee, in the desert I near Thy passion drew;
4 Till with Thee in the garden I heard Thy pleading prayer, And saw the sweat-drops bloody That told Thy sorrow there. John S. B. Monsell, 1863 |
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580
2 'Tis I have thus ungrateful been, Yet, Jesus, pity take! Oh, spare and pardon me, my Lord, For Thy sweet mercy's sake!
3 My Jesus! who with spittle vile Profaned Thy sacred brow? Or whose unpitying scourge has made Thy precious blood to flow? 'Tis I have thus ungrateful been, &c.
4 My Jesus! whose the hands that wove That cruel thorny crown? Who made that hard and heavy cross That weighs Thy shoulders down? 'Tis I have thus ungrateful been, &c.
5 My Jesus! who has mock'd Thy thirst With vinegar and gall? Who held the nails that pierced Thy hands, And made the hammer fall? 'Tis I have thus ungrateful been, &c.
6 My Jesus! say who dared to nail Those tender feet of Thine: And whose the arm that raised the lance To pierce that heart divine? 'Tis I have thus ungrateful been, &c.
7 And, Father! who has murder'd thus Thy loved and only One? Canst Thou forgive the blood-stain'd hand That robb'd Thee of Thy Son?
8 'Tis I have thus ungrateful been To Jesus and to Thee; Forgive me, Lord, for His sweet sake, And mercy grant to me. Alphonso M. Ligouri, 1709; tr. by R. A. Coffin, 1854. |
581 1 INFINITE grief! amazing woe! Behold my bleeding Lord! Hell and the Jews conspired His death, And used the Roman sword.
2 Oh, the sharp pangs of smarting pain My dear Redeemer bore, When knotty whips and rugged thorns His sacred body tore.
3 But knotty whips and rugged thorns In vain do I accuse; In vain I blame the Roman bands, And the more spiteful Jews.
4 'Twas you. my sins, my cruel sins, His chief tormentors were; Each of my crimes became a nail, And unbelief the spear.
5 'Twas you that pull'd the vengeance down Upon His guiltless head: Break, break, my heart, oh burst mine eyes! And let my sorrows bleed.
6 Strike, mighty grace, my flinty soul, Till melting waters flow, And deep repentance drown mine eyes In undissembled woe. Isaac Watts, 1709.
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582 Repentance should like rivers flow From both my streaming eyes.
2 'Twas for my sins, my dearest Lord Hung on the cursed tree, And groan'd away a dying life For thee, my soul, for thee.
3 Oh, how I bate those lusts of mine That crucified my God Those sins that pierced and nail'd His flesh Fast to the fatal wood!
4 Yea, my Redeemer, they shall die; My heart has so decreed: Nor will I spare the guilty things That made my Saviour bleed.
5 Whilst with a melting, broken heart, My murder'd Lord I view, I'll raise revenge against my sins, And slay the murderers too. Isaac Watts, 1709. |
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583 Pour out a long complaint.
2 This impious heart of mine Could once defy the Lord, Could rush with violence on to sin In presence of Thy sword.
3 How often have I stood A rebel to the skies; And yet, and yet, oh matchless grace! Thy thunder silent lies.
4 Oh, shall I never feel The meltings of Thy love? Am I of such hell-hardon'd steel That mercy cannot move?
5 O'ercome by dying love, Here at Thy cross I lie, And throw my flesh, my soul, my all, And weep, and love, and die.
6 "Rise," says the Saviour, "rise, Behold My wounded veins! Here flows a sacred crimson flood To wash away thy stains."
7 See, God is reconciled! Behold His smiling face! Let joyful cherubs clap their wings, And sound aloud His grace. Isaac Watts, 1706, a. |
584 1 LORD. at Thy feet we sinners lie, And knock at mercy's door: With heavy heart and downcast eye, Thy favour we implore.
2 On us, the vast extent display Of Thy forgiving love; Take all our heinous guilt away; This heavy load remove.
3 'Tis mercy—mercy we Implore; We would Thy pity move; Thy grace is an exhaustless store, And Thou Thyself art Love.
4 Oh! for Thine own, for Jesus' sake, Our numerous sins forgive; Thy grace our rocky hearts can break, Our breaking hearts relieve.
5 Thus melt us down, thus make us bend, And Thy dominion own; Nor let a rival dare pretend To repossess Thy throne. Simon Browne, 1720 |
585 Look on all our deep distress; Thy rich mercy may we meet; Clothe us with Thy righteousness; Stretch forth Thy almighty hand; Hold us up, and we shall stand.
2 Oh that closer we could cleave To Thy bleeding, dying breast! Give us firmly to believe, And to enter into rest. Lord, increase, increase our faith! Make us faithful unto death.
3 Let us trust Thee evermore; Every moment on Thee call For new life, new will, new power: Let us trust Thee, Lord for all! May we nothing know beside Jesus, and Him crucified! Joseph Hart, 1758. |
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586 There humbly fall before His feet, For none can perish there.
2 Thy promise is my only plea, With this I venture nigh; Thou callest burden'd souls to Thee, And such, O Lord, am I.
3 Bow'd down beneath a load of sin, By Satan sorely press'd: By war without, and fears within, I come to Thee for rest.
4 Be Thou my shield and hiding-place! That, shelter'd near Thy side, I may my fierce accuser face, And tell him Thou hast died.
5 Oh wondrous love! to bleed and die, To bear the cross and shame, That guilty sinners, such as I, Might plead Thy gracious name.
6 "Poor tempest-tossed soul, be still, My promised grace receive:" 'Tis Jesus speaks—I must, I will, I can, I do believe. John Newton, 1779 |
587 Let me know Thy great salvation: See! I languish, faint, and die.
2 Guilty, but with heart relenting. Overwhelm'd with helpless grief, Prostrate at Thy feet repenting, Send, oh send me quick relief!
3 Whither should a wretch be flying, But to Him who comfort gives?— Whither, from the dread of dying, But to Him who ever lives?
4 While I view Thee, wounded, grieving, Breathless on the cursed tree, Fain I'd feel my heart believing That Thou suffer'dst thus for me.
6 Hear, then, blessed Saviour, hear me; My soul cleaveth to the dust; Send the Comforter to cheer me; Lo! in Thee I put my trust.
6 On the word Thy blood hath sealed Hangs my everlasting all: Let Thy arm be now revealed; Stay, oh stay me, lest I fall!
7 In the world of endless ruin, Let it never, Lord, be said, "Here's a soul that perish'd, suing For the boasted Saviour's aid!"
8 Saved—the deed shall spread new glory Through the shining realms above! Angels sing the pleasing story, All enraptured with Thy love! Daniel Turner, 1787. |
588 1 O Jesus, Saviour of the lost, My rock and hiding-place, By storms of sin and sorrow toss'd, I seek Thy sheltering grace.
2 Guilty, forgive me, Lord! I cry; Pursued by foes I come; A sinner, save me, or I die; An outcast, take me home.
3 Once safe in Thine almighty arms, Let storms come on amain; There danger never never harms; There death itself is gain.
4 And when I stand before Thy throne, And all Thy glory see, Still be my righteousness alone To hide myself in Thee. Edward Henry Bickersteth, 1858 |
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589 Oh that I could at last submit At Jesu's feet to lay it down, To lay my soul at Jesu's feet!
2 When shall mine eyes behold the Lamb? The God of my salvation see? Weary, O Lord, Thou know'st I am; Yet still I cannot come to Thee.
3 Rest for my soul I long to find; Saviour divine, if mine Thou art, Give me Thy meek and lowly mind, And stamp Thine image on my heart.
4 Break off the yoke of inbred sin, And fully set my spirit free: I cannot rest till pure within, Till I am wholly lost in Thee.
5 Come, Lord, the drooping sinner cheer, Nor let Thy chariot-wheels delay; Appear, in my poor heart appear! My God, my Saviour, come away! Charles Wesley*, 1742, a. |
590 1 WITH tearful eyes I look around, Life seems a dark and stormy sea; Yet 'mid the gloom, I hear a sound. A heavenly whisper, "Come to Me."
2 It tells me of a place of rest; It tells me where my soul may flee; Oh, to the weary, faint, oppress'd, How sweet the bidding, "Come to Me"!
3 "Come, for all else must fail and die, Earth is no resting-place for thee; To heaven direct thy weeping eye, I am thy portion; come to Me."
4 O voice of mercy! voice of love! In conflict, grief, and agony, Support me, cheer me from above! And gently whisper, "Come to Me." Charlotte Elliott, 1834
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591 1 SAVIOUR, when in dust to Thee Low we bow the adoring knee; When, repentant, to the skies Scarce we lift our weeping eyes; Oh! by all Thy pains and woe, Suffer'd once for man below, Bending from Thy throne on high, Hear, oh, hear our humble cry!
2 By Thy helpless infant years, By Thy life of want and tears, By Thy day of sore distress In the savage wilderness; By the dread mysterious hour Of the insulting tempter's power, Turn, oh turn a favouring eye, Hear, oh hear our humble cry!
3 By Thine hour of dire despair, By Thine agony of prayer, By the cross, the nail, the thorn, Piercing spear, and torturing scorn, By the gloom that veil'd the skies O'er the dreadful sacrifice, Listen to our humble sigh! Hear, oh, hear our humble cry!
4 By Thy deep expiring groan, By the sad sepulchral stone, By the vault whose dark abode Held in vain the rising God; Oh! from earth to heaven restored, Mighty re-ascended Lord! Listen, from Thy throne on high, Hear, oh bear our humble cry! Robert Grant, 1815, a. |
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592 1 SON of God, to Thee I cry; By the holy mystery Of Thy dwelling here on earth, By Thy pure and holy birth, Lord, Thy presence let me see, Manifest Thyself to me!
2 Lamb of God, to Thee I cry; By Thy bitter agony, By Thy pangs, to us unknown, By Thy Spirit's parting groan, Lord, Thy presence let me see, Manifest Thyself to me!
3 Prince of Life, to Thee I cry; By Thy glorious majesty, By Thy triumph o'er the grave, Meek to suffer, strong to save, Lord, Thy presence let me see, Manifest Thyself to me!
4 Lord of Glory, God Most High, Man exalted to the sky, With Thy love my bosom fill: Prompt me to perform Thy will; Then Thy glory I shall see, Thou wilt bring me home to Thee. Richard Mant, 1831. |
593 Thy pardoning grace is rich and free; O God! be merciful to me.
2 I smite upon my troubled breast, With deep and conscious guilt oppress'd: Christ and His cross my only plea; O God! be merciful to me.
3 Far off I stand with tearful eyes, Nor dare uplift them to the skies; But Thou dost all my anguish see; O God! be merciful to me.
4 Nor alms, nor deeds that I have done, Can for a single sin atone: To Calvary alone I flee; O God! be merciful to me.
5 And when, redeem'd from sin and hell, With all the ransom'd throng I dwell, My raptured song shall ever be God has been merciful to me. Cornelius Elven, 1852. |
594 God the Son, be Thou my plea! God the Holy Spirit, comfort! Triune God, deliver me!
2 Not my sins, O Lord, remember, Not Thine own avenger be; Bat, for Thy great tender mercies, Saviour God. deliver me!
3 By Thy cross, and by Thy passion, Bloody sweat and agony, By Thy precious death and burial, Saviour God, deliver me!
4 By Thy glorious resurrection, Thine ascent in heaven to be, By The Holy Spirit's coming, Saviour God, deliver me!
5 In all time of tribulation, In all time of wealth, in the Hour of death, and day of judgment, Saviour God, deliver me! John S. B. Monsell, 1863. |
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595 Throbbing breast and heavy sign. O my Saviour, Canst Thou let a sinner die?
2 Not Thou canst not: Thou hast promised To attend unto his prayer; Still he cries in faltering accents, Jesus, oh, in mercy spare! Spare a sinner, Jesus, oh, in mercy spare!
3 Oh, how swift Divine compassion Runs to meet the mourning soul; And, by words of consolation Makes the wounded spirit whole! I'm thy Saviour, Let this truth thy mind console.
4 Groans and sighs are turn'd to praises, Doubts and fears are chased away: Now with saints his voice he raises, Jesus hears the pious lay. Glory, glory! Hallelujahs close the day.
5 Angels that were hovering o'er him Spread their wings and leave the place, Bear to heaven the joyful tidings Of a sinner saved by grace. Myriads listen, Heaven rings with shouts of praise. J. Stamp's Spiritual Song Book, 1846 |
596 1 LOVE us freely, blessed Jesus, For we have not aught to pay; Saviour Thou, and we poor sinners, Is alone what we can say; Love us freely, blessed Jesus, For we have not aught to pay.
2 Love us ever, blessed Jesus, We are changing as the wind; If Thy love on us depended, We should ne'er salvation find; Love us ever, blessed Jesus, We are changing as the wind.
3 Love and help us, blessed Jesus, Help us to be wholly Thine; Every idol and enchantment, For Thy glory to resign; Love and help us, blessed Jesus, Help us to be wholly Thine.
4 Love and keep us, blessed Jesus, Keep us from denying Thee; Keep our wayward feet from straying Into paths of vanity; Love and keep us, blessed Jesus, Keep us from denying Thee. Albert Midlane, 1865.
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597 Hear, oh, hear my earnest cry; Frown not, lest I faint and die.
2 Vilest of the sons of men, Chief of sinners I have been; Oft have sinn'd before Thy face, Trampled on Thy richest grace.
3 Justly might Thy fatal dart Pierce this bleeding, broken heart; Justly might Thy angry breath Blast me in eternal death.
4 Jesus, save my dying soul; Make ray broken spirit whole; Humbled in the dust I lie; Saviour, leave me not to die. Thomas Baffles, 1812, a |
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598
2 Oh think not of my shame and guilt, My thousand stains of deepest dye; Think of the blood for sinners spilt, And let that blood my pardon buy.
3 Think, Lord, how I am still Thine own, The trembling creature of Thy hand; Think how my heart to sin is prone, And what temptations round me stand.
4 Oh think not of my doubts and fears, My strivings with Thy grace divine; Think upon Jesu's woes and tears, And let His merits stand for mine.
5 Thine eye, Thine ear, they are not dull; Thine arm can never shorten'd be; Behold me now; my heart is full; Behold, and spare, and succour me! Henry Francis Lyte, 1833. |
599 Whence these wild tumults in my breast? Is there no balm to heal my wound? No kind physician to be found?
2 Raise to the cross thy tearful eyes, Behold, the Prince of Glory dies; He dies extended on the tree, And sheds a sovereign balm for thee.
3 Blest Saviour, at Thy feet I lie, Here to receive a cure or die; But grace forbids that painful fear, Almighty grace, which triumphs here.
4 Thou wilt withdraw the poison'd dart, Bind up and heal the wounded heart; With blooming health my face adorn, And change the gloomy night to morn. Elizabeth Scott, 1763, a |
600 1 Jesus! who on Calvary's mountain Pour'd Thy precious blood for me, Wash me in its flowing fountain, That my soul may spotless be.
2 I have sinn'd, but oh, restore me, For unless Thou smile on me, Dark is all the world before me, Darker yet eternity!
3 In Thy Word I hear Thee saying, "Come, and I will give you rest;" Glad the gracious call obeying, See, I hasten to Thy breast.
4 Grant, oh, grant Thy Spirit's teaching, That I may not go astray, Till the gate of heaven reaching, Earth and sin are pass'd away! S. W. Beecher's Plymouth Collection, 1855 |
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601 Grant the joys of sin forgiven, Foretaste of the bliss of heaven.
2 All my guilt to Thee is known; Thou art righteous, Thou alone, All my help is from Thy cross; All beside I count but loss.
3 Lord, in Thee I now believe, Wilt Thou, wilt Thou not forgive? Helpless at Thy feet I lie; Saviour, leave me not to die. Thomas Hastings, 1846? |
602 1 Jesus! Master! hear my cry; Save me, heal me with a word; Fainting at Thy feet I lie, Thou my whisper'd plaint hast heard
2 Jesus! Master! mercy show; Thou art passing near my soul, Thou my inward grief dost know, Thou alone canst make me whole.
3 Jesus! Master! as of yore Thou didst bid the blind man see, Light upon my soul restore; Jesus! Master 1 heal Thou me. Anna Shipton, 1855. |
603 1 HEAL us, Emmanuel, here we are, Waiting to feel Thy touch: Deep-wounded souls to Thee repair, And, Saviour, we are such.
2 Our faith is feeble, we confess, We faintly trust Thy word; But wilt Thou pity us the less? Be that far from Thee, Lord!
3 Remember him who once applied With trembling for relief; "Lord, I believe, with tears he cried, "Oh, help my unbelief!"
4 She, too, who touch'd Thee in the press, And healing virtue stole, Was answer'd, "Daughter, go in peace, Thy faith hath made thee whole."
5 Conceal'd amid the gathering throng, She would have shunn'd Thy view, And if her faith was firm and strong, Had strong misgivings too.
6 Like her, with hopes and fears, we come To touch Thee if we may; Oh! send us not despairing home, Send none unheal'd away. William Cowper, 1779. |
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604 1 O THOU, the contrite sinner's Friend, Who, loving, lovest Him to the end, On this alone my hopes depend. That Thou wilt plead for me.
2 When weary in the Christian race, Far off appears my resting-place, And fainting I mistrust Thy grace, Then, Saviour, plead for me.
3 When I have err'd and gone astray Afar from Thine and wisdom's way, And see no glimmering guiding ray, Still, Saviour, plead for me.
4 And when my dying hour draws near, Then, to preserve my soul from fear, Lord, to my fading sight appear, Pleading in heaven for me. Charlotte Elliott, 1835, a. |
605 1 COME, let us to the Lord our God With contrite hearts return; Our God is gracious, nor will leave The desolate to mourn.
2 His voice commands the tempest forth, And stills the stormy wave; And though His arm be strong to smite, 'Tis also strong to save.
3 Long hath the night of sorrow reign'd; The dawn shall bring us light; God shall appear, and we shall rise With gladness in His sight.
4 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.
5 As dew upon the tender herb, Diffusing fragrance round; As showers that usher in the spring, And cheer the thirsty ground.
6 So shall His presence bless our souls, And shed a joyful light; That hallow'd morn shall chase away The sorrows of the night. John Morrison, 1781 |
606 Hear my never-ceasing cry; Give me Christ, or else I die.
2 Wealth and honour I disdain, Earthly comforts all are vain; These can never satisfy, Give me Christ, or else I die.
3 Lord, deny me what Thou wilt, Only ease me of my guilt; Suppliant at Thy feet I lie, Give me Christ, or else I die.
4 All unholy, all unclean, I am nothing else but sin; On Thy mercy I rely, Give me Christ, or else I die.
5 Thou dost freely save the lost! Only in Thy grace I trust: With my earnest suit comply; Give me Christ, or else I die.
6 Thou hast promised to forgive All who in Thy Son believe; Lord, I know Thou canst not lie; Give me Christ, or else I die.
7 Father, dost Thou seem to frown? I take shelter in Thy Son! Jesus, to Thy arms I fly, Save me, Lord, or else I die. William Hammond, 1745. |
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607 1 LORD, I hear of showers of blessing Thou art scattering, full and free; Showers, the thirsty land refreshing; Let some droppings fall on me, Even me.
2 Pass me not, O gracious Father! Sinful though my heart may be; Thou might'st curse me, but the rather Let Thy mercy light on me, Even me.
3 Pass me not, O tender Saviour! Let me love and cling to Thee; I am longing for Thy favour; When Thou comest, call for me, Even me.
4 Pass me not, O mighty Spirit! Thou canst make the blind to see; Witnesser of Jesus' merit, Speak the word of power to me, Even me.
5 Have I long in sin been sleeping, Long been slighting, grieving Thee? Has the world my heart been keeping? Oh forgive and rescue me, Even me.
6 Love of God, so pure and changeless, Blood of God, so rich and free, Grace of God, so strong and boundless, Magnify them all in me, Even me.
7 Pass me not, this lost one bringing, Satan's slave Thy child shall be, All my heart to Thee is springing; Blessing others, oh bless me. Even me. Elizabeth Codner, 1860 |
608 Oh let Thine ears consider well The voice of my complaint.
2 Thou see'st me yet a slave to sin, And destitute of God; Oh purify my soul within By Thine all-cleansing blood.
3 O Jesus, undertake for me, Thy peace to me be given; For while I stand away from Thee, I stand away from heaven.
4 Reject not, Lord, my humble prayers, Nor yet my soul destroy: Thine only Son hath sown in tears That I might reap in joy. Augustus M. Toplady, 1759, a. |
609
2 Canst Thou forget that awful hour, That sad, tremendous scene, When Thy dear blood on Calvary Flow'd out at every vein?
3 No, Saviour, no; Thy wounds are fresh, E'en now they intercede; Still, in effect, for guilty man Incessantly they bleed.
4 Thine ears of mercy still attend A contrite sinner's cries, A broken heart that groans for God, Thou never wilt despise.
5 Oh love incomprehensible, That made Thee bleed for me? The Judge of all hath suffered death To set His prisoner free! Augustus M. Toplady, 1769 |
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610 He bore Thy wrath and curse for me In His own body on the tree, And more than paid my debt.
2 Surely He hath my pardon bought, A perfect righteousness wrought out, His people to redeem: Oh that His righteousness might be By grace imputed now to me, As were my sins to Him. Augustus M. Toplady, 1759. |
611 Smile on me, dearest Lord, and show Thyself the friend of sinners now.
2 Beneath the shadow of Thy cross My heavy-laden soul finds rest; Let me esteem the world as dross, So I may be of Thee possess'd! I borrow every joy from Thee, For Thou art life and light to me.
3 Close to my Saviour's bloody tree My soul untired shall ever cleave; Both scourged and crucified with Thee, With Christ resolved to die and live: My prayer, my great ambition this, Living and dying to be His.
4 Oh nail me to the sacred wood, There tie me with Thy Spirit's chain; There seal me with Thy fastening blood, Nor ever let me loose again: There let me bow my suppliant knee, And own no other Lord but Thee! Augustus M. Toplady, 1760. |
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2 Here I'll make my piteous moan; Thou canst understand a groan! Here my sins and sorrows tell, What I feel Thou knowest well,
3 Ah! how foolish I have been To obey the voice of sin, To forget Thy love to me! And to break my vows to Thee.
4 Darkness fills my trembling soul; Floods of sorrow o'er me roll; Pity, Father, pity me; All my hope's alone in Thee.
5 But may such a wretch as I, Self-condemn'd and doom'd to die, Ever hope to be forgiven, And be smiled upon by Heaven?
6 May I round Thee cling and twine, Call myself a child of Thine; And presume to claim a part In a tender Father's heart?
7 Yes, I may; for I espy Pity trickling from Thine eye: 'Tis a Father's bowels move, Move with pardon and with love.
8 Well I do remember too, What His love hath deign'd to do; How He sent a Saviour down, All my follies to atone.
9 Has my elder Brother died? And is justice satisfied? Why—oh why—should I despair Of my Father's tender care? Samuel Stennett, 1787 |
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613 1 MY spirit longs for Thee Within my troubled breast, Un-worthy though I be Of so divine a guest.
2 Of so divine a guest Unworthy though I be, Yet has my heart no rest Unless it come from Thee.
3 Unless it come from Thee, In vain I look around; In all that I can see No rest is to be found.
4 No rest is to be found But in Thy blessed love! Oh let my wish be crown'd; And send it from above! John Byrom, 1773 |
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2 Turn not Thy face away, Thy look can make me clean; Me in Thy wedding robes array, And cover all my sin.
3 Tell me, my God, for whom Thy precious blood was shed; For sinners? Lord, as such I come, For such the Saviour bled.
4 Then raise a fallen wretch, Display Thy grace in me; I am not out of mercy's reach, Nor too far gone for Thee. Augustus M. Toplady, 1759 |
615 1 JESUS, God of love, attend, From Thy glorious throne descend; Answer now some waiting heart, Now some harden'd soul convert: To our Advocate we fly, Let us feel Immanuel nigh; Manifest Thy love abroad, Make us now the sons of God.
2 Prostrate at Thy mercy-seat Let us our Beloved meet, Give us in Thyself a part Deep engraven on Thine heart; Let us hear Thy pardoning voice, Bid the broken bones rejoice! Condemnation do away, Oh make this the perfect day! Augustus M. Toplady, 1759. |