O, throw away Thy rod,

O, throw away Thy wrath!

My gracious Saviour and my God,

O, take the gentle path!

Thou seest, my heart’s desire

Still unto Thee is bent:

Still does my longing soul aspire

To an entire consent.

Not even a word or look

Do I approve or own,

But by the model of Thy Book,

Thy sacred Book alone.

Although I fail, I weep;

Although I halt in pace,

Yet still with trembling steps I creep

Unto the throne of grace.

O, then, let wrath remove

For love will do the deed!

Love will the conquest gain; with love

Even stony hearts will bleed.

For love is swift of foot,

Love is a man of war;

Love can resistless arrows shoot.

And hit the mark from far.

Who can escape his bow?

That which hath wrought on Thee,

Which brought the King of Glory low,

Must surely work on me.

O, throw away Thy rod;

What though man frailties hath?

Thou art my Saviour and my God!

O, throw away Thy wrath!