Wherewith, O God, shall I draw near,

And bow myself before Thy face?

How in Thy purer eyes appear?

What shall I bring to gain Thy grace?

Will gifts delight the Lord Most High?

Will multiplied oblations please?

Thousands of rams His favour buy,

Or slaughter’d hecatombs appease?

Can these assuage the wrath of God?

Can these wash out my guilty stain?

Rivers of oil, and seas of blood!

Alas! they all must flow in vain.

Shall I my darling Isaac give,—

Whate’er is dearest in my eyes?

Wilt Thou my soul and flesh receive

A holy, living sacrifice?

Whoe’er to Thee themselves approve,

Must take the path Thy Word hath show’d,

Justice pursue, and mercy love,

And humbly walk by faith with God.

But though my life henceforth be Thine,

Future for past can ne’er atone;

Though I to Thee the whole resign,

I only give Thee back Thine own.

My hand performs, my heart aspires,

But Thou my works hast wrought in me;

I render Thee Thine own desires,

I breathe what first were breathed from Thee.

What have I then wherein to trust?

I nothing have, I nothing am:

Excluded is my every boast,

My glory swallow’d up in shame.

Guilty I stand before Thy face;

I feel on me Thy wrath abide:

’Tis just the sentence should take place:

’Tis just—but, O Thy Son hath died!

Jesus, the Lamb of God, hath bled,

He bore our sins upon the tree,

Beneath our curse He bow’d His head,

’Tis finish’d! He hath died for me!

For me I now believe He died!

He made my every crime His own,

Fully for me He satisfied:

Father, well-pleased behold Thy Son!

See where before the throne He stands,

And pours the all-prevailing prayer,

Points to His side, and lifts His hands,

And shows that I am graven there.

He ever lives for me to pray;

He prays that I with Him may reign:

Amen to what my Lord doth say!

Jesu, Thou canst not pray in vain.