Father, I stretch my hands to thee, No other help I know; If thou withdraw thyself from me, Ah! whither shall I go? What did thy only Son endure Before I drew my breath; What pain, what labour, to secure My soul from endless death! O Jesus, could I this believe, I now should feel thy power; Now all my wants thou wouldst relieve In this, the accepted hour. Author of faith, to thee I lift My weary, longing eyes: O let me now receive that gift! My soul without it dies. Surely thou canst not let me die; O speak, and I shall live! For here I will unwearied lie, Till thou thy Spirit give. How would my fainting soul rejoice, Could I but see thy face! Now let me hear thy quickening voice, And taste thy pardoning grace!
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