Hark! my soul, it is the Lord;

’Tis thy Saviour; hear his word;

Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee:

“Say, poor sinner, lov’st thou me?“

I deliver’d thee when bound,

And when bleeding, heal’d thy wound;

Sought thee wandering, set thee right,

Turned thy darkness into light.

Can a woman’s tender care

Cease towards the child she bare?

Yes, she may forgetful be,

Yet will I remember thee.

Mine is an unchanging love,

Higher than the heights above,

Deeper than the depths beneath,

Free and faithful, strong as death.

Thou shalt see my glory soon,

When the work of grace is done:

Partner of my throne shalt be,

“Say, poor sinner, lov’st thou me?”

Lord, it is my chief complaint

That my love is cold and faint:

Yet I love thee, and adore;

O for grace to love thee more.