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An Evening Hymn

Jesus, the all-atoning Lamb,

Lover of lost mankind,

Salvation in whose only Name

A sinful world can find:

I ask Thy grace to make me clean;

I come to Thee, my God:

Open, O Lord, for this day’s sin,

The fountain of Thy blood.

Hither my spotted soul be brought,

And every idle word,

And every work, and every thought

That hath not pleased my Lord:

Hither my actions righteous deem’d

By man, and counted good;

As filthy rags by God esteem’d,

Till sprinkled with Thy blood.

No! my best actions cannot save,

But Thou must purge even them:

And (if in Thee I now believe)

My worst cannot condemn.

To Thee, then, O vouchsafe me power

For pardon still to flee,

And every day, and every hour

To wash myself in Thee.

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